


Lost And Found

by CaptainJ



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Self Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainJ/pseuds/CaptainJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam moves into her new apartment, she becomes enamored with her next door neighbor. One violent rescue later, she can't help but feel like she's falling, and everything around her starts to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I could be your perfect disaster, you could be my ever after](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987450) by [queenlara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenlara/pseuds/queenlara). 



> Stick with me folks, lets see where this goes! 
> 
> This work was also retyped from a word document to a tumblr post, so I typed while reading the original document. If there are misspellings, odd half words, so on, please let me know. I've stared at this thing so many times its all blurred together.
> 
> I am considering breaking CH 1 into two pieces, because of its length. Stay tuned for that. I also hate ch 1 so much I may just redo it LOL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've broken up Ch 1 into two parts due to its sheer length. And hopefully to make it less of a snore to read.

Josh

~ ~ ~

The first time he sees her, she’s moving in across the way. They don’t share any words, just a casual glance as she approached her door for the first time. He remembers that she wore a red and black plaid skirt, with leggings and a thick leather jacket. She’s a splash of color against the off white paint of the walls, which have aged to the point of nearly being yellow, but the hue can do nothing to tame her radiance. 

She fumbles with her keys, and nearly drops the them, only to struggle with the dead bolt until it finally swings open. She breathes in deeply, like she’s taking in the stale air as one would enjoy a fine wine. He can’t help  but appreciate the cinematic beauty of the scene playing before him: the open and empty room before her, framed by just the threshold of her door, and her silhouette. He can see it all perfectly, set in the narrow window of his own door, like they were in two different worlds, separated by just a thin plank of wood with a metal handle. 

He tries to look as aloof as possible but he can’t help but watch as she sets her bag down and fishes through it. This is what he gets for leaving his door open to catch a cross breeze: a lovely view of the lovely girl moving in next door. “Where is it?” her voice rings through the air like a bird song, and it catches Josh off guard so much that he jumps a little in surprise. She looks around in defeat, as if the empty room will somehow give her the answer to her question. She taps at her chin lightly, stands, and abruptly leaves the room, door wide open and inviting.

 _“What the?”_   Josh muses lightly to himself, hands fumbling with the coffee mug he just finished pouring. He slowly walks towards his door, the crappy wood floor creaking beneath his bare feet. Where did she go? He hums in the back of his throat as he reaches the hallway, only to jump back in shock as she suddenly rounded the corner! 

She didn’t even register his existence, which he quietly thanked the gods for. Calloused and thin fingers gripped the frame of his door, but he hesitated with closing it. She was in the center of her new little apartment, bathed in a kind of light that was almost surreal. The overcast sky made the dreary apartment look almost dull, but she? She was a breath of fresh air, a vibrant array of colors that assailed his senses in a way that was nearly intoxicating. The beautiful blond of her hair, the bold black and red pattern of her skirt, and the shined to perfection gloss of her leather jacket, it was all too much to handle. She cut through the grey like a foghorn through mist. She was so vibrant and alive and for a moment he almost could have sworn she was real; that this moment, was real. His eyes hurt a little the longer he looked at her, like they hadn’t seen this kind of beauty in ages – maybe they hadn’t. 

_“Don’t be so foolish, Joshua…” A familiar voice cooed in his ear. Its snake tongue licking at the shell of his ear, callous words caressing the inner walls of his mind like a long lost lover. “You’re alone. And always will be.”_

He felt the contentment fall from his body like a lead weight. Every moment that had brought him some sense of calm since she walked up to her front door, turned to ash in his mind. He didn’t know her. She was just his new neighbor, nothing more and nothing less. His head fell a little in defeat, eyes studying the frayed edges of his baggy sweat pants as they grazed the tops of his feet. She would never know he even existed, and perhaps that was for the best. Thin fingers wrapped tighter around the doorframe in defeat, and he contemplates closing it, but his eyes are drawn to her again. 

He sees her walking through her apartment, a professional grade camera in hand. She's taking pictures of the empty space, as if capturing some kind of moment when no moments have even been made. She holds the camera with such poise and grace that it stirs something in him he can’t quite explain. It’s almost like familiarity, like he should know this moment because it’s happened before like a strange sense of deja vu. She checks the LED screen a few times to cycle through her photos and smiles brighter and brighter with each passing one. He can’t watch it anymore. 

Josh lowers his eyes and silently curses his lack of willpower. He wants to close the door, he wants to retreat back into his sanctuary but she's magnetic. He's pulled back up and his eyes lock directly on her. His heart drops to the floor instantly, and his breathing stops. She’s looking at him. She’s looking at him and she’s smiling and his heart nearly stops completely. She waves, and he barely waves back, before panic overrides any curiosity from before. He finally manages to close the door with a soft click. 

His mind races a thousand miles per second. His breathing comes quickly, eyes darting left and right as he tries to pull his thoughts into focus. He knows her. He knows he knows her, but from where? He tries to remember, tries to rack his brain for any faces that may even remotely resemble her, but nothing comes to mind. He grows frustrated, and stamps a foot on the hardwood as he keeps drawing blanks. In a last ditch effort, he comes up with an idea. Josh fumbles for his phone from his pocket and quickly types out a number, gadget pressed to his ear tightly as his leg moves nervously. Some 8-bit jingle played on the other line as he waited impatiently for them to pick up. “Hello?” A tired voice asks from the other line.

“Chris! Bro! What are you doing?” Josh asks a little too enthusiastically. 

“Uhh, I’m at work man. I get off a couple hours, what’s up?”

“No questions bro, just come over once you’re off your shift okay?”

“What? Bro, I have plans and shit. You can’t just call me and –”

Josh interrupts him mid sentence, “Chris, bro, this is really important okay? Like really, really, /really/, important. I need you to come over.”

There’s a moment of silence and then a deep sign echoes through the phone. “Okay, fine. I’ll be over after my shift.” A pause, “Are you okay?” Chris's voice is a little quieter now, like he’s worried someone will overhear. 

“Yeah man, I’m fine. Just fine. But just come over okay?” Josh’s voice gets tight, his nerves getting the better of him. 

Chris seems to know better, judging by the pregnant pause, but elects to say nothing. “Okay. I’ll go over once my shift is over. Give me just two hours. I’ll see you soon bro.”

Excitement shoots through Josh like a rocket. He can barely contain the smile that bursts over his face, the smile breaking into his tone as he responds to his friend. “I swear I could kiss you, Cochise, thank you.”

Josh hangs up and looks back towards his door. He can hear voices outside, thanks to these thin as paper walls. For a split second, he toys with the idea of looking out of his peephole, but scolds himself before he even really lets it sink in. “ _Don’t be fucking creepy, don’t be fucking creepy.”_ He chants to himself, realizing just how awkward and weird he's already been today regarding his neighbor. 

The cheap architecture left little to the imagination anyway, and even without looking Josh could pretty much figure out what was happening in the hallway. She’s shuffling boxes into her home, probably with several stacks already in the first room. It takes a lot more willpower than he's willing to admit, but Josh manages to keep himself away from his door, and instead goes to his forgotten coffee mug. He sighs as he talks a sip, finding it lukewarm at best. 

He tries to drown out the sounds of the going on’s outside by brewing more coffee, finding that the soothing gurgles and drip ease his racing heartbeat. His mind wanders back to her however. Why did she have this affect on him? Who was she? Why did he feel like he knew her, like she were a long lost best friend, from a long time ago. He just kept getting frustrated with the lack of answers, so he breathed in deeply through the nose, and grabbed a new mug. He poured a new, hefty cup, and quickly took a sip. 

The human mind can be a wonderful, horrible thing, however. As if on some sick joy ride, his mind just conjured up various images of his new neighbor. She still has her camera around her neck, but her jacket has been discarded. She's wearing a breathable, but warm blouse, with the sleeves rolled up and a box in her arms. She’s smiling that radiant smile she flashed at him before, a light flush to her cheeks from all the exertion and going out of a warm building to the cold outside, and back in again. 

“Hey Sam!” A voice calls from the stairs, jarring Josh from his reveries. “Where do you want this one?” Damn these fucking walls. 

Josh thanks the Gods silently for the interruption, however, seeing as his thoughts were quickly getting out of hand. He furrows his brows, and looks over to his door, the urge to look out resurfacing again. He clutches his coffee mug tightly and shakes his head hard, trying to dislodge the thought from his mind. “Nope. Nope. Been creepy enough for one day.” He mutters to himself, voice low as his fingers flex around his mug.  

Josh irons his will as best he can, and walks to his couch, where his laptop is situated. He sips his coffee lightly and sets it down on the little table, one hand running through his hair. Today has had enough surprises and weird emotions attached to it. It’s time to just de-stress, and watch a few films and then write critiques. It's time to slip back into his usual routine, before the mysterious girl moved in next door. 

“Yeah!” Her voice is like wind chimes on a quiet day, the walls doing nothing to damper its clarity. “Just put it right here, Mike.”

“Okay, we done? The moving van won’t be here for a few hours. Can we at least get some lunch?”

“Alright, alright, seeing as you won’t stop complaining.”

Josh could hear more reorganizing of boxes, and then the door close. God damn these fucking thin ass walls. He could hear everything. She was jiggling the keys in the lock and struggling to get the dead bold to turn. 

“I need to change the lock on this damn thing. It’s going to drive me insane.”

“Yeah, thats the first thing I’m getting you. This place is a shit show, Sam. Why the hell did you even move in?”

“Relax, Mike. I could afford it, that’s why.” There was more jiggling with the key, and the deadbolt finally turned. She laughed a little in victory and then there was silence. 

For a beat, Josh felt his entire body tense up, waiting. He wasn't really sure what he was waiting for, but he was waiting. Maybe it was for one of them to speak, or move, or something! Anything to stop this wretched quiet. Another beat passed, and then another. Silence. Josh wasn’t even breathing, he just sat silently in his room, listening, heartbeat hammering in his ears. It was reminiscent of the overused scene in horror movies, where the girl hides and the killer is in the same room. He isn't sure if that's a good analogy or not. Either way, he strains to listen, ears focusing in on ever nuance of noise that the old apartment building has to offer. There is the hustle and bustle outside, the gurgle of his coffee machine, the sound of someone outside shifting their weight. He almost swore he could hear the click of a camera shutter amongst the rabble, but the roar of his heartbeat was too loud in his ears. 

“What’s up, Sam?” The voice asked. 

Salvation at last! If Josh were a particularly religious man, he could have sworn Handel's Hallelujah chorus played from the heavens. 

“Nothing, Mike. Just needed another photo is all.” She responded, a smile to her voice.

“Well alright, you got it, so come on! I’m starving.”

Finally they left, heavy steps indicating their departure. Josh breathed a sigh of relief, the tenseness in his shoulders finally relaxing. He wasn’t even sure why he had been so tense. Why did the mere presence of her make his heart race out of his chest? He could swear that he knew her before, like they’d known one another from a long time ago. He tried to rack his brain on any Sam’s he knew, but the few he could remember were from high school, and none of them were her. 

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling the thoughts around in his brain. He silently hoped that Chris would know, or at least remember their high school days better than he did. He checked his phone and still had a few hours before his friend would be over. 

True to form it took Chris about two hours to get to his place. He knocked on the door heavily. 

Josh got up and meandered over, only to get a mischievous idea. “What’s the password?” He called dramatically through the door. 

“Seriously man? You call me, from work, freaking out and you’re going to pull this?” Chris sounded exasperated. 

“Nope. Sorry. Try again.” Josh called back. 

Chris rolled his eyes, “Bone Zone.” Came the overly exaggerated voice. 

Josh swung the door wide open and smiled at his long time friend, arms wide and inviting. “You pass, Cochise, come on in.” 

Chris pushed his way passed his friend, wrapped snuggly in his six layers, bag hefted high up on his shoulder. “Okay man, what’s so urgent that you had to call me away from work.”

Josh got nervous, and stuffed his hands hard in his pockets. “You have to do something important for me.” He awkwardly shuffled past Chris and towards his laptop. 

“You have to hack someone.”


	2. Project: Soul Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 2nd half of ch 1. Edited and semi-revised. Ch 1 was just way too fucking long, am I Rite?

Josh

~ ~ ~ 

“I’m sorry, one more time?”

“Come on man, help a bro out. I really need you to use your tech wizardry.”

“Why?”

Josh put his fingers through his hair. “This new girl moved in across the way,” He started, only to have Chris interrupt him.

“You want me to hack into your new neighbor? Jesus man.” Chris sounded a little annoyed by the suggestion.

Josh waved his hands to try and dismiss his friends’ concerns. “Look man, I don’t know what it is, but I swear I know her.”

Chris raised an eyebrow and slowly moved to set his bag down. He was buying himself time to think and Josh knew it. He watched as Chris eased himself onto the comfortable couch, eyes scanning for familiar orange bottles. He caught sight of them by the coffee pot, and noted that they were nearly empty, signifying daily usage. Satisfied with his friend’s medication habits, Chris leveled Josh with a look. “Okay man. So you think you know her. Alright, so what’s her name?”

“The guy who helped her move in called her Sam. So I’m guessing that’s short for Samant–”

“You mean you haven’t even introduced yourself?”

“It all happened so fast, Cochise!”

“Okay, okay, back up." Chris moved his glasses higher up on his nose. "What happened so fast?” He tried to stifle an amused grin, but failed. 

Josh shuffled to the couch stiffly, and sat down next to his friend. He sucked in a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves. “Okay, so I woke up, and I opened my door to get a cross breeze, because it was hot as hell, right?”

Chris rolled his eyes, “It’s the middle of fucking winter, and you’re hot?”

Josh just waved his hands dismissively. “Yes! That space heater mom and dad got me makes this place unbearable. So I have to get a cross breeze to help cool it down.”

Chris took the excuse in stride. “Okay, alright man. Then what?”

How Josh managed to get more nervous, is a sheer miracle. His hands rubbed awkwardly on his pant legs, as if trying to stop them from clamming up. “She just appeared. I was making coffee, and suddenly she was just there, at her door, across the way.” He gestures to his own door, as if that’ll somehow help Chris see the situation clearer. 

Chris looked concerned, but waved his hand for more elaboration. “Then what?”

Josh just kept rubbing his palms over his knees. “Nothing, I was just seeing her. And I went to close my door because – lets be honest – that’s really creepy, and then she was there again, and taking pictures, and she looked at me, and she smiled, and then she waved at me and I swear,” He was rambling, and caught Chris in a wide-eyed stare. “It's like I know her.” 

“Wait, what do you mean 'taking pictures’?” Chris interjected, trying to stop Josh’s frantic thoughts. 

“I don’t know man, she just had this camera and she was taking pictures of her apartment.” 

Chris let the detail slide, deciding it wasn’t as important as the rest of the story. “Okay. So she’s your new neighbor, she takes pictures, and her name is Samantha.” 

Josh gave an enthusiastic nod. “Yeah. Do you remember any Sam’s from high school?”

The blond slowly sat back and rubbed at his chin, fingers scratching on day old stubble. “No. I only remember Sam on the football team, and he was a Samuel.” Josh could see the gears spinning in Chris’ mind though: he was always a sucker for a good hack. 

“So? Will you help me man?” 

Chris sighed loudly but gave in. “Alright man, alright. But we aren’t going as deep as we usually do. Lets just see if we know her.” 

He grabbed his own laptop out of his bag, and set it next to Josh’s. He typed in all his passwords and as he waited, started to remove all his layers until he was down to his last sweater. “Shit man, you weren’t kidding, that space heater is a damn beast.” 

“See? I fucking told you, bro. It’s a goddamn sauna in here half the time.” Josh checked his phone as it buzzed in his hands: he’s gotten an email from his land lady. “Bro, check this out.” His hands were starting to shake as he read over the email. “I got her name.” 

Chris looked surprised, but relieved. “Good. Saves me from hacking back into Mrs. Daughtry’s accounts again. Dude you have a hell of a land lady. She lets any ol’ psycho in off the street.” 

Josh just shrugged lightly. “Well, she did let me in.” 

Chris blanched and rubbed at the back of his neck in a sheepish way. “Look man, I’m sorry. Poor choice of words.” 

The brunette just waved a hand nonchalantly, brushing off the slip of the tongue like it were nothing. “Don’t worry about it man. Here, her name is Samantha Doyle.” 

Chris took the prompt and changed the subject. He cracked his neck and then his wrists and got to typing. After a few moments, he pulled something up. “Got it. Damn man, her passwords are a shame. She’s used the same one for basically everything!” 

Josh loved his friend, really he did, but it took a certain kind of God complex to be a hacker. He liked to imagine it was due to Chris’ intense devotion to all things tech, and his lack of siblings. Chris’ family was much akin to Joshs’, with a wildly successful father, an absent mother, and just a nanny to help raise them. 

While Josh had two loving sisters to depend on for emotional companionship, Chris didn’t have anyone at his house. So he turned to the internet, and computers to help stem his own personal brand of loneliness. When the two became friends in third grade, Chris would share his past times with his newfound buddy, and this went on all the way through High School. It was a way for them to pass the time together. 

“Okay,” Chris began, breaking Josh from his thoughts. “I got her Facebook. Let’s go ahead and see what Ms. Samantha Doyle has lurking in her social media.” He let out a snicker, something he always did when a hack was too easy, and scrolled through her pictures leisurely. After a few seconds he shrugged a shoulder in a non committed way. “Welp, sorry buddy, but I don’t recognize her.” 

“Are you sure?” Josh interjected, “Really think man, because I swear I know her.” He was pressing, and Chris caught on. 

The blond held his hands up defensively. “Yeah man, I promise. I don’t recognize her. Not even from way back in freakin’ grade school.” 

Josh just sighed, his head hanging a little in defeat. “Well, shit man. That had to have been in.” He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Well, does it say anything about her?”

Chris typed in a few more codes to get past her security. “Well, she kept everything pretty secure, so it’s a good thing you called me in. Otherwise you’d have been shit out of luck if you just Google searched her.” 

Josh rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Okay man, I get it, you’re an amazing hacker of the ages. Now, what does it say about her?” 

“Geez man, when did you get so damn romantic? You realize this is borderline stalking right?” Chris rebuked. 

“You’re the one who fucking agreed with me man. Come on. I just want to make sure that what I’m feeling isn’t some kind of weird fluke.” Came the swift rebuttal. 

Chris ceded that point to his friend; he was just as deep into this shit show as Josh was. “Alright man, you got me. So lets see.” A pause as he scrolled. “Well, she went to Washington University, apparently for photography. So that explains the camera.” 

“What else.”

“Uhh, well, she plans on working for National Geographic – blah-blah-blah – is passionate about wildlife conservation – blah-blah – is a vegan – yeesh.” He made a gagging noise and stuck out his tongue in disgust. “I don’t know man, if you date her, I’ll have to cook tofu and shit. I’m a meat eating carnivore.” He flexed his arms for good measure; trying to show off how much ‘progress’ he’s made at the gym.

Josh just chuckled, “Yeah, no totally Cochise. You’re jus the pinnacle of masculinity. Can’t let a tiny bit of tofu ruin your reign.” 

Chris made a face, “I can stop man. I can just shut my computer off right now and you’ll never know–”

Josh interrupted his friend, his words laced with a hearty chuckle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Come on, what else is there?” 

Chris looked back at his screen and scrolled a little. “Well, she’s really into music, and plays the guitar. She was a choir girl in high school, and had a few music projects in college.” A snicker, “One was a pop punk band she tentatively named ‘Until Dawn.’” He smirked and snorted a little at the name. “Well, at least we know she has that under her belt.” 

Josh hummed a little, a smile creeping onto his lips as he imagined her, hair let down and flowing, strumming on an acoustic guitar as she crooned some sad song about a boy breaking her heart. “That’s a good lil tidbit. Anything good though? Dig deep, Cochise.” 

Another crack of the neck, and Chris was off and away typing. He managed to dig up that she’s been seeing a therapist – one of the same one’s Josh had seen in the past – for anxiety due to a high school ski trip. “There ain’t much on the trip man,” Chris said with an exasperated sigh. “You worked with that therapist, you know he keeps all his files written. None of it’s digitalized, so I can’t access it even if I wanted too.” 

Josh growled in frustration, “What did she say about it though? You said she made a Facebook status about it?” 

Chris scrolled back up a little, eye’s squinting at the screen. “Yeah, all she posted was: ‘It’s even in my nightmares.’ about a week after the trip.” 

Josh furrowed his brow deeply, face pulling in as he contemplated this. What could have happened that affected her in such a fundamental way that she would require therapy for anxiety? What scared her so deeply that it penetrated her dreams? “There’s really nothing else on it?” 

Chris breathed out and set his hands behind his head, which shook a little at the question. “I’m sorry bud, but no, there’s nothing. I even checked the police record and that was just as vague as her her Facebook status.” He clicked back to her Facebook page. 

Josh got up with a grumble and snatched his coffee mug. He shuffled to the kitchen, cleaned said mug, and then opened the fridge. He needed an excuse to get up anyway, his leg was falling asleep and he didn’t want to hear any more distressing news about his neighbor. “Yo, Cochise, you want a beer?”

“BRO! Check this out!” Chris interrupted with great enthusiasm, hands waving frantically in that certain way he always did when he was excited. 

Josh just rolled his eyes and grabbed a beer, opening it up as he wandered back to Chris. “What’d you find?”

Chris rambled off something that sound like a blurb from a website. “’Project Soul Mark is an ongoing collection of Soul Marks and the lives of those who bare them. Every person has a story, and every person has a soul mark, so why not share both with the word? This project was created to explore the unique qualities of each soul mark and showcase the people who have them in an attempt to bring people together.” Chris paused to take a breath and let Josh process what he’d just prattled on. “Interested in adding yourself to the growing list? Feel free to drop me an email.” Chris took a breath from his marathon reading. “Signed, one Samantha Doyle.” 

Josh got a littler closer to his friend and peered at the screen, breath hitching in his throat as he took in everything. Intimate pictures of people bearing their soul marks to the camera filled the screen. Most were black and white, capturing the raw emotion of each soul as they bared this incredibly special mark to the world. The subjects ranged from all ages: children up to the elderly, and each picture told a story all its own. 

“Scroll down, Cochise, I want to see them.” He prompted gently, and Chris obliged, their eyes scanning over each face, and each phrase, word, sentence, or mark inked on the skin. Some make them snort in amusement, others are painful to read, some they’d even dare to say were romantic, while the symbols some where unfortunate to be marked with, left the two wannabe hackers feeling morose. Those were always the worst kinds of soul marks. 

**_“Excuse me, Miss?”_ **

**_“Hey good lookin’.”_ **

Chris stops at one picture in particular. It’s one of the few photo’s with color. Its a girl, easily around their age, with an award winning smile, and brilliantly auburn hair, which is the only thing in color. The contrast makes her beauty almost radiant. Written in scrawling script across her prominent collarbone, is the simple phrase: 

**_“Yeah, hey, sorry. I’m nervous.”_ **

Chris chuckles a little more than Josh does. It takes a little prodding to get Chris to scroll again, which amuses Josh to no end. His friend was just enthralled with this particular photo, much in the same way Josh was enthralled with the girl next door. Josh cleared his throat a little louder, and as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Chris turns a bright red, coughs, and then scrolls on. 

The two make it to the end of the webpage, but there’s no sign of the creator. Josh furrows his brow, “That’s it?” 

“Seems like it, man.” A pause, and then Chris jolts like he’s gotten a sudden thought. “Hold on though,” He scrolls back up to the top and clicks around on the bio tabs. “Jesus, she has one for every single person.” He keeps going, but there’s no sign of Samantha anywhere in the bio’s. “The hell?” He asks no one in particular and decides to go a little deeper. He digs into the websites code, searching diligently for any indication that she’d made a bio for herself. 

“AH-HAH!” Chris threw his hands triumphantly into the air suddenly, startling Josh who had zoned out on a particularly interested piece of dry wall. “Found her!” He pulled up a prototype bio page that Samantha had apparently began but never fully finished, leaving its code to just waste away in the bowels of her website. All it had on it was a very flattering black and white picture of her, but still no indication of her own soul mark. She’s just looking straight at the camera, hair thrown up in a messy bun, and a sly grin playing at the corner of her lips. 

Josh sucks in a breath, it’s like her eyes were boring into his very soul. He scans her face, and then her neck, and down to what he can see of her arms, but there is absolutely no sign of her tattoo. Confusion edges at the corners of his mind, “Don’t you think its a little weird?”

“What?” Chris asks, eyes trailing away from the screen and up to his friend. 

“That she has this whole freakin’ web page dedicated to Soul Marks, and hers isn’t anywhere to be seen! I mean, why make a project, and hide your own?” Josh muses lightly, hand trailing absently to the back of his neck. 

Chris watches his friend closely. “Well, you and I both know how personal they are. I mean, you haven’t even looked at yours in years.” 

On impulse Josh stands, and goes to his bathroom. His fingers flick on the light as he grabs a small hand mirror. “Bro? you okay?” He barely registers Chris’ words from the living room. Josh has a single purpose in mind as he passes through the threshold, throws off his zip up jacket, and yanks up his shirt. He tries to ignore the sharp lines of his chest and rib cage, or the sickly pallor of his skin; goddamn he’s thin. 

He turns his back to the larger bathroom mirror, and holds up the smaller one, eye’s falling on the beautifully written phrase inked on the nape of his neck. He swallows a little, eyes tracing the sweep and curve of each letter, taking in every detail as if he’s just seeing it for the first time. In a way he was, the phrase tucked away under high collared shirts and beneath the hood of his favorite jacket in a desperate attempt to keep unwanted eyes from this piece of his soul. It’s such a simple phrase, no more than two words, and that’s the problem. 

 _“Thank You.”_ Is all it reads, just two words and a million opportunities to hear it. Over and over again that phrase is used, tossed around as a simple pleasantry, not a soul in the world understanding how intimate and special those two words are to him. So in an attempt to keep the world far away and himself safe, he hit it from prying eyes and scrutinizing gazes. 

Chris appears in the doorway, concern falling over every nuance of his face. “You okay man?” There’s hesitation in his voce, unsure if his friend is willing to pen up just yet. 

“Yeah man, I think so.” Josh returns the hesitation, uncertainty falling in his voice as his fingers graze the delicate hairs that grew over the vulnerable skin of his nape, right where those words were painstakingly written. “I mean, just think about it. She has this whole freakin’ project that’s meant to celebrate this…this thing.” he gestures to his tattoo, the delicately inked words seeing sunlight for the first time in years. “A permanent mark of the first words my soulmate will ever speak to me, and I’ve been hiding it for years.” He kept tracing the words over, and over again. “But here’s this project, where people are allowed to show them off, and be proud of their marks. People who go around every day with them out in the open and even letting people photograph them.” He laughs despite himself, the sound forced and hard. “But here she is, the freakin’ creator of this damn project, and her’s isn’t anywhere to be seen! Its god damn ironic!” 

Chris just shrugs a shoulder, as nonplussed as ever. “Who knows man, maybe she has a good reason to hide. And hey, maybe you could join her little project. Get you out of the house and all.” A pause, “I mean, she only lives next door.” 

Josh looks himself in the mirror and decides that it’s best to fake bravado for his friend. He forces a mischievous grin and slaps a hand on his friends shoulder. “You’re right Cochise,” He grabs his shit and starts to ease it on over his lanky frame. 

“She does only live next door.”  


	3. Cigarettes and a Blue Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s always been nervous around new places – ever since her high school ski trip. So to cope with the unknown, she’s always taking photographs, capturing moments that’ll last forever in a scrapbook in her room. So when she sees her reclusive neighbor, she can’t help but capture the moment.

Sam

~ ~ ~ 

The next time she sees him, he’s sitting on the stoop of their shitty apartment building. Its raining, the quiet drizzle pitter-pattering off her umbrella in a lovely staccato rhythm, and she can’t help but smile at the sheer serenity of the atmosphere. Even if he’s smoking. She doesn’t even notice it at first, but the closer she gets, the more distinct the plumes of smoke became. 

Sam slows to a stop, eyes locked on her curious neighbor. He doesn’t seem to be aware of her presence which she’s thankful for. She takes out her camera, which is always tucked snuggly in her bag, and levels him in the field. She smiles despite herself, watching as leans forward a little, elbows on his knees. His hand, which is ungodly thin, rose and set the bud of the cigarette on chapped lips. She can barely make out his profile, pretty much just the lower half of his face, which only added to the mystique. His thin fingers curled around his chin as he sucked in a long drag. 

Sam snapped a picture, and zoomed in tighter around his head, deft fingers pulling him into focus again. He was familiar in a way she couldn’t place, like a long lost friend, or someone she just knew she should somehow know. He readjusted himself a little, and Sam could barely make out a shiver running down his body. She felt her own skin prickle at the cool breeze, but when she readjusted her focus, she saw that the hood had pulled back a bit over his head, revealing more of his profile. Sam sucked in a gasp as she caught sight of a distinctive scar on the left side of his face. The gauntness of his features, and the height of his cheekbones made for a striking profile; one she throughly enjoyed photographing. The scar was ragged, like it hadn’t healed properly, and she could swear it looked like a tear wound, like that side of his face had been violently ripped up. She quickly snapped another photo, only to have him suddenly look over to where she was.

His eyes went wide, cigarette forgotten by his lips. Sam felt a blush go over her cheeks as she snapped a picture of him, looking bewildered at the camera. Her heart sped up a little in her chest, and she let her camera rest around her neck. She started to fully approach the stoop, completely intending to make small talk, and actually meet her neighbor –other than these random, wordless encounters mind you. 

To her surprise, and disappointment, he snuffs out his cigarette and stands swiftly. He retreats into the building before she can even say anything! “Ahh, come on now,” She grumbles, feet taking her to the stoop in a light jog, and her hands quickly throw open the front door to try and catch up to him. Once on the other side, her eyes catch sight of his retreating back, and she notes the sharp edges his hunched shoulder blades made in his tight black jacket. She sighed but stopped short, deciding that if he didn’t want to talk, he had a good enough reason. 

Sam shook her head and turning to the little office on the first floor, where their land lady resided. “Hey, Mrs. Daughtry.” She called after a few knocks to the door. 

“Oh! Samantha, hello!” Came the cheery voice from their short, pudgy, and incredibly irish land lady. She smiled happily and puttered over, readers perched on the tip of her nose. “Get in out of the cold, dear, or you’ll catch your death.” She ushers Sam in with a wave of her stubby hands. “Get in darlin’, come on.” 

Sam chuckled warmly and stepped further into the little office, letting the elderly woman shut the door behind her. “I have rent for you,” She began, fishing out a check from her wallet. 

“Oh thank you darlin’. Punctual, I like that.” She took the check and shuffled over to her file cabinet, where she kept all her files of rent from her tenants. 

Sam shuffled a little awkwardly. “Hey, Mrs. Daughtry?”

“Hmm?” Soft eyes looked up from her papers, leveling Sam in a look that she could almost call motherly. 

“Who’s the gentleman who lives across from me? I saw him once when I first moved in, but I never seem to be able to pin him down for an introduction.” She tried to sound nonchalant, like it wasn’t something that she was really interested in. 

“Who? Joshua?” Mrs. Daughtry asked, a smile breaking over her plump face. “Don’t let him bother you none. He keeps to himself and stays quiet. Never heard a peep outta him.” She smiles softly, “He’s a good boy, that Joshua.” 

Sam smiles despite herself, “That’s good to know. I was a little worried I upset him somehow.” 

The elderly little lady just laughed softly. “Oh, never dear. He’s just shy is all.” She leveled the blond with a knowing look. “Give him time and he’ll come around.” 

Sam felt her cheeks warm a little as Mrs. Daughtry made the implication. “Yeah, no, of course! I figured that’s what it was.” Sam tried to dismiss the implications as best she could. “But, there’s rent, and I’ll see you at the first of the month, okay?” 

Mrs. Daughtry just waved her little hands and smiled softly. “See you later dearie.” 

Sam exited the little office and closed the door behind her, hand fishing for her phone in her pocket. She checked the time, and blanched when she realized that she’d spent more time talking to Mrs. Daughtry than intended. “Shit, I’m going to be late.” 

Artistic impulses are a hell of a crutch however. Without even a second thought, Sam was up the stairs in three long steps, and quickly rushed to her door. She fought with the dead lock until it finally slid open, and walked through the threshold. She set her bag down, grabbed her camera, and turned to face Joshua’s closed door. She brought the camera up and focused on the door, which was a cool shade of blue that was jarring from the off-white walls that surrounded it. 

One of the first things Sam had noticed when she moved in was that Josh’s door was the only one painted that particular blue color, and she was drawn to it almost immediately. It always caught the light in a way that was different than other places in the house, or there was something about it that was just photogenic. So, Sam started a little collection of pictures, taking one nearly every day when she’d return home, or leave for the day, in order to capture the ever changing mood, lighting, and feeling of the scene. 

She snapped the picture and checked the LED screen, and quickly took three more just in case the first one wasn’t to her satisfaction. The camera hung around her neck loosely, and she quickly checked the time on her phone again. Shit. She was going to be even later now. 

Like a flash, she closed her door, descended the stairs, and was out in the rain heading towards the bus stop. Dr. Hill would be very disappointed if she was late, so she had to rush. 

Sam arrived at Dr. Hills office five minutes late, and burst in the door looking like a water logged cat. She smiled sheepishly to the receptionist, and signed her name on the appointment ledger. She shuffled to a seat awkwardly, and tried to ring out her soaked hair. This is exactly what she gets for impulsively taking pictures of curious things on her way to therapy. 

After a moment, the elderly therapist shuffled out of his office, manila folder in his hands. He smiled over at Sam and waved her over, “Hello Samantha! Get caught in the downpour?” He asks, that usual mirth in voice when he teased her. 

“Yeah! Sorry about that. I got stuck talking to my land lady and then, well,” She held up bag, camera safely tucked inside, “You know me! I have to snap pictures of everything I see.” Sam ducked her head in embarrassment, “But I made it!” 

Dr. Hill chuckled and set a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you did. Come, lets go to my office.” 

The two walked in comfortable silence to the roomy office, which always struck Sam as antique. Walking into the office was like stepping back in time. The way the desk sat. The large painting in the background. The various bookshelves with various books. The globe in the corner. Hell, even the lamp had a 50s aesthetic to it. “Please, sit.” He instructed lightly as he shuffled over to his large file cabinet. 

Sam moved towards the comfortable leather seat that Dr. Hill had across from his desk, and situated herself comfortably. She felt a little bad that her clothes were still damp, but Dr. Hill didn’t seem to mind in the least. 

“So, how have you been?” The cheery old man asked as he situated himself in his own chair, manila folder open on the desk. He cycled through Sam’s paper work and hummed a little in the back of his throat. “Is the alprazalam working?” 

Sam fished through her bag and produced the little orange bottle, which was nearly empty. “Yeah, it’s working a lot better than the klonopin. It helps put me back to sleep, but if I take it during the day I have a hard time concentrating.” 

Dr. Hill uncapped his favorite pen and wrote that down. He nodded a little in understanding, “That’s a common side effect. Do you have a lot of anxiety during the day?” Soft grey eyes rose to level Sam evenly. 

She rubbed at the back of her neck, “Well, the anxiety has gotten a little better with new places, but it was hard to sleep in my new apartment for a few days.” 

He wrote that down diligently. “Does Michael still come around to help?” He flipped another paper over and scanned it, “You had told me that he helps in one of our earlier sessions.” 

Sam nodded lightly, “Yeah, he’s come around a few times, but he’s terrible at helping me.” She gave a light chuckle, “He just doesn’t really understand.” 

Dr. Hill chuckled a little and gave a sympathetic nod. “Most people don’t, but has it gotten better?” 

Sam leaned back a little in her chair, enjoying the comfortable atmosphere that Dr. Hill always seemed to cultivate in his office. “Yeah, umm, ever since I started to photograph my apartment and its gotten more familiar with it. It’s been easier.” 

He wrote that down and then got another piece of paper. “So, photographing area’s you’ll visit often, helps you cope with the unknown element of them, which gives you the anxiety?” 

Sam gave an enthusiastic nod. “Oh yeah, exactly. Plus, the neighborhood I’m in now has a lot of interesting people.” 

Dr. Hill smiled a little at that. “Oh? Anything in particular thats interesting?” 

Sam fished out her camera and leaned forward to show Dr. Hill all the photographs she’s taken. She cycles them slowly, so he can see each one, and when she lands on one with Joshua, Dr. Hill lets out a small laugh through his nose. She looks up and catches a look thats almost relieved. She wants to ask, but he prompts her to keep scrolling. 

What passes next is an array of pictures of Joshua’s front door. Dr. Hill furrows his brow a little. “Why this door?” 

Sam pulled the camera back to her lap, looking fondly down at the little screen and the blue door it showed. “Why not this door?” She countered. 

Dr. Hill sat back and crossed one leg over the other, clip board situated on his thigh as he contemplated Sam’s question. “Is it because there’s something…about the door? Something familiar? Something scary? Does it give you anxiety?” 

Sam thought on each question but just kept shaking her head. “No, its none of those really. I wouldn’t say its familiar, nor would I say it gives me anxiety. It’s just,” A pause as she tried to get her words right. “It’s not the same every time I photograph it.” 

Dr. Hill tilted his head in curiosity and wrote that down. “What do you mean? How is it not the same door?” 

“No, no, the subject is always the same, but…something is always different when I see it.” She cycled to the next picture, her eyes studying it. “The lighting is always different. The mood is always different. Sometimes it’s open, just a little crack, and I can hear music coming out of it. Sometimes it’s dead silent. Everything surrounding the door is always changing, but the door stays the same.” 

Dr. Hill writes everything down diligently. “I see. So it isn’t the door that physically changes, but how you perceive the door.” 

“Yeah, exactly. Plus, sometimes the guy who lives there leaves it wide open, and he just walks around like it isn’t a big deal. He just lives there, and the door is all that keeps him and the world separated.” She’s rambling, her words tumbling from her mouth before she can really even process them. Dr. Hill just keeps writing. 

“Oh? And is there anything in particular about this boy that makes his door so fascinating?” He’s digging, but always does it in such a way that Sam spills her guts all over the table. 

She smiles a little despite herself. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know the guy, we’ve never really met but…I don’t know. It’s like I know him from a long time ago.” 

Dr. Hill smiles back and writes a few things on his stack of papers. “I see. And, why do you think you feel this way? What is it about him?” 

Sam looks back down at her camera and cycles through a few until she makes it back to the photo’s she took of Josh. Her eyes took in the sharp lines of his face, how his high cheekbones jutted from his gaunt face, and the way his cheeks hollowed as he sucked in a drag from his cigarette. Her eyes fell to the scar on his cheek and she frowned. “I don’t know. I feel like, I should just remember him.” Her fingers trailed up to her cheek, feeling her soft skin where his was so jagged. “He just feels…familiar.” 

Dr. Hill continued to write, but the massive grand father clock rung over his shoulder. He looked up, seemingly surprised at how fast the time past. “Ah, well, looks like our time is up.” He smiled and nodded, “Remember to keep taking your medication, and next week we can talk about the nightmares.” A pause, “Unless you need more time?” 

Sam waved a hand dismissively. “No, I should be okay. Mike has been around enough to help, and the medicine helps.” She stood up, stuffing her camera in her bag. “I should get home anyway, I don’t want to get stuck in the rain again.” 

She smiled and stood, only to be joined by Dr. Hill. He set her folder down and stepped out from behind his desk. He walked with Sam towards the door of his office and smiled in that grandfatherly way. “Oh, and Samantha?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I think you should get the know your neighbor.” He paused a little, “Perhaps he could use a friend.” 

The request caught her off guard, but Sam nodded with gusto. “Yeah. Maybe he could.” She waved goodbye to Dr. Hill and trudged into the damp weather, catching it right as the rain was letting up. She pulled her jacket tight around her shoulders and tried to keep as much heat centered around her chest. 

Time to get home. 

It took about an hour to get home, but luckily she was quick enough to escape the rain. She walked up the stoop and entered the front door, wiping off her feet on the small mat Mrs. Daughtry kept there. A yawn managed to sneak its way to the surface, and Sam realized she was surprisingly sleepy. 

Tired legs trudged up the stairs that lead to her front door. She half considered stopping to take another picture of the door across the way, but her tired mind was a little too slow to truly process the thought fully. She rounded the corner that lead to her hallway, only to have a hand clamp around her mouth. 

Before Sam could even register what was going on, she was pressed tight against a warm chest, with a thin hand over her lips, and an arm trapping hers against her body. Her whole body went tense, eyes wide as her heart galloped straight out of her chest.  Immediately panic rocketed through her body, leaving her legs locked in place like weights were attached to her ankles. Her whole body was on edge, chest heaving as her heart went at full throttle, leaving her beleaguered brain to try and catch up. 

Calloused lips pressed to the shell of her ear, and a voice she could swear she knew, like she’d heard it a thousand times, washed over her. 

“Don’t move.” 


	4. Don't Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s unable to speak and he doesn’t know how to help her. She’s bruised and beaten and he isn’t much different. They wear their scars like neon signs, but can’t help but notice how similar the patterns are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is sacred in this world. Nothing is happy. 
> 
> Also fight scenes are sorta hard.

Josh

~ ~ ~ 

Her heart is hammering so hard in her chest he can feel it through her back. She’s hyperventilating, chest rising and falling in quick succession as her legs start to shake. He clamps down on her mouth a little harder, strangling the scream he feels rising in her like a tide. It comes out muffled, the sound frantic – like a coyote caught in a trap. His other hand wraps more snuggly around her waist, pathetic muscles flexing as he feels her start to struggle.

He’s saved by the crash of something breaking nearby, which makes her freeze like a deer in headlights. He sucks in a breath and looks around the corner, watching as shadows pass the threshold of her home. Someone’s there. There’s more crashing, and the sounds of things being overturned, along with rough voices whispering in hushed tones. Someone in dark clothes rushes past, carrying something in gloved hands. He knows she’s watching the scene, realization coming over her slowly as the anxiety allows for cognizant thought. 

What she does next both surprises him, and somehow doesn’t. It’s that odd sense of deja vu again, like was a completely understandable reaction because he knew she’d make it, but at the same time he wasn’t expecting it. She slammed a hard elbow into his gut, effectively knocking the wind out of him, and then ran for her intruders like an attack dog who’s smelt blood. “WAIT!” He coughs after her, lungs desperate to regain any sense of regular airflow after the swift attack. 

There’s crashing and screams, the sounds of punches flying, of bodies hitting bodies, and the un-mistakeable sound of something limp thumping to the ground. His heart seizes in his chest and before he even knows what he’s doing, Josh is in the room, wild eyes scanning for anything that’s familiar. He searches for blond hair, but all he can find are two large men, hulking in their stature as they tower over her limp frame on the ground. 

One’s nursing a bloody nose, which drips rhythmically on the hardwood floor. The other looks a little disheveled where an arrant hand had gripped his shirt desperately. His feet act on their own and he’s running towards them, something reminiscent of a war cry booming from his chest as he smashes into one of them with all of his weight. He’s surprised the monstrosity of a man even fumbles, seeing as the drastic difference in their builds leant no indication of victory. 

The other lets out a yelp in surprise, and cocks a hand back, fist connecting solidly with Joshs’ left eye. He feels the sting and quickly finds that he can’t see, but raises his hands weakly in defense. He can hear them talking, probably taunting him, but his blood is roaring so loudly in his ears that he can’t make out their words. Another cocked first, but this time Josh is ready. He narrowly avoids it, but in his haste almost trips over his prone neighbor. 

“Get out!” He shouts, not even sure if the threat comes out of his throat, or if he just thought it loud enough to fool himself into thinking he actually spoke words. One is faster than he expects, and a hard fist connects to his belly, and the wind is once again forcefully expelled from his lungs. He coughs hard, the sound nearly wheezing as he stumbles to one knee. 

He tries to open his eyes but all he can see are stars, which swirl around in an iky haze as his mind swims. A meaty fist slams into his temple, and he feels hte thin skin burst open and blood trickle down the side of his face. Shit. Shit this isn’t at all how this was supposed to go!  _“Sam,”_ He weakly looks for her, trying to see where she’d fallen and if he could somehow still protect her from the brutes in her home. Josh looks to where he remembers she fell, but there’s no indication of her. His heart squeezes as panic shoots through him like a bullet.  _Where is she? What did they do to her? If they so much as laid a finger on her..!_

He can barely process the questions before a resounding – WHACK – echoes through the small apartment. One of the hulking men falls in a heap on the floor, sticky blood pooling beneath his temple as he twitches on the floor. Behind him, with some kind of blunt object defiantly raised in the air, is Samantha. Her eyes are no longer beautiful green fields, but now sharp and cold stones of emerald, a single focus pulling her into a state of clear mind that allowed for such a resounding attack. She was poised in such a way that was unearthly, knuckles white around the object as she brandished it at her foe, looking much like one would imagine a Viking Shield-Maiden. Her hair had fallen from it’s loose bun, and fell in waves around her bruised and cut up cheek. She was a bloodied warrior, but not nearly down for the count. Josh almost couldn’t breath, the beauty and strength that resonated off her pinning him to the ground like a stone. 

He didn’t have time to admire her though, as the other man took a threatening step towards her. Now without surprise on her side, Samantha was naught more than a sitting duck. Josh acted without thinking. He lunged forward and stuck his arm between the aggressor’s legs, and thrusts his hand upward, effectively smashing his forearm into the man’s groin. Thin fingers gripped the waistband of his hands, and Josh pressed his body weight to the back of the intruder’s legs, forcing him to stand upright. Without any verbal prompting, Sam smashed her weapon against the man’s head with a war cry all her own. Josh let the man fall in a heap next to his partner in crime, leaving the two neighbors to stare wildly at each other. 

There was a beat of silence, nothing but the sound of their erratic heartbeats in the space between them. Her weight seemed to get heavier and heavier, until she finally just lowered her arms to her sides. She still clutched her weapon firmly, but her chest heaved, green eyes zeroing in on Josh as she watched him closely. He didn’t blame her for scrutinizing him, after all he did basically just scare the shit out of her, and then they got into a brawl with two thieves in her own house. Sharp eyes caught how her legs shook at the knees, and how her chest rose and fell in an erratic fashion, like she couldn’t get ahold of her breathing. He had no thoughts, other than somehow comforting her. 

However when he stood, she brandished her weapon at him, seeing him still as an intruder and not a fellow warrior. Josh held up his hands in surrender, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. He just wanted to tell her it was okay, that she was safe now, that they’d won, but his tongue was like lead in his mouth. He couldn’t form words. He just held his hands up again, slowly trying to ease his way towards her. She took a step back, and set her free hand to her chest, which tapped swiftly over her heartbeat in a frantic way he felt like he should know. Like she were nonverbally attempting to tell him something. 

What came next was an aggressive game of charades. Neither of them seemed to be able to speak, their racing heartbeats drowning out any ability to form sentences and all they could do was gesture frantically at one another. Sam kept tapping her palm to her chest, as if the action would somehow spring a memory in Josh’s mind that he didn’t have. He kept inching closer, but every time she’d step back, hand touching her chest again. He didn’t understand. His brows furrowed and he tried to make a pleading gesture, but the just kept stepping away and repeating the action. They were both getting frustrated, which didn’t help with the situation in the slightest. 

They were saved by one of the intruders groaning, body limply moving to attempt to make sense of its surroundings, which sent a brand new wave of anxiety through the both of them. On impulse, Josh unbuckled his belt and yanked it free, remembering that he’d seen this in a movie, and tried to restrain one of the mans hands behind his back. He made a flimsy knot but hell, anything to at least deter movement right? He then yanked the belt off the other thief and did the same, tying them both up back to back in a vague attempt at capture. This was going to have to do until someone arrived to take it from here. 

Josh turned back around to look at Sam, who was know bent at the knees trying to gulp down air like she were a fish out of water. She was violently shaking all over, shoulders heaving as tears streamed down her face. He nearly had to dive to catch her before she hit the ground, legs finally giving way under her weight. She pushed at him violently, throwing herself away as her hand frantically patted her chest in that same motion. She continued to heave, lungs desperate for air which she swallowed in uneven breaths. He held a hand out to her, trying to show that he wasn’t a threat, but only here to help. 

They were interrupted by the police arriving on the scene, which caused Josh to suddenly remember that he had – in fact – called them before Sam even got to the apartment. He’d called them the second he heard the door get smashed open, knowing damn well that he couldn’t do anything about the much larger men. That’s why he had set himself up at the corner of the staircase, ready to grab Sam and protect her from unwittingly walking into a burglary and possibly getting hurt. Not that it mattered now anyway, both of them were pretty beat up. 

It took the police a near hour to get all the information out of the two of them. Forty minutes were spent calming Samantha down, which only culminated in her strangled request for her medicine. The police found her bag lying discarded outside, which the two neighbors had completely forgotten even existed when the scuffle began. Once procured, Samantha pulled the little orange bottle and downed two of her pills. She managed to get ahold of herself enough to offer some kind of story, which was blurry and fuzzy due to the quickness of events. 

Josh was questioned in another room, which felt more like an interrogation than answering a few simple questions. He gave his rendition of the events as he saw them, starting with how he heard the start of it, and then went to try and intercept Sam before she made her way into the fray. He then explained that she had mistaken him for one of the intruders, and gotten away from him, and then into the apartment, where she met the thieves with gusto. He then explained how they incapacitated the two and waited for the police to arrive. Satisfied, the cop let him go. 

As the two made their way back into the living room, Josh could make out just the tail end of their conversation. 

“Do you want to press charges against your neighbor? You said he restrained you –”

“What? No. He was protecting me.” Her voice was a little clearer now, but it still sounded tight and hoarse from her earlier hyperventilation. 

Seemingly satisfied, the two officers left, bleeding and wounded thieves in tow. This left the two neighbors alone again, and the air was so thick Josh was sure he could slice it with a knife. 

Samantha was looking at him expectantly, like she were waiting for him to make the first move. Josh was doing the exact same thing however, deciding that it was best if she broke the silence. The wound on his head continued to bleed, the fresh blood oozing over the dried trail down the side of his face. He felt his eye start to swell shut, and the sizable bruise on the side of Sam’s face was getting even more noticeable. 

She sucked in a breath and sighed, her head falling as she ran a hand weakly through her hair. “Thank you,” She started and Josh felt a jolt of electricity shoot right down his spine. He stared at her in shock, knowing damn well that she had no idea what she’d just done. She’d just whispered those two words that were inked painfully on the nape of his neck. He flexed his hands, resisting the urge to just reach out and grab her hands. Common sense overrides that impulse though. 

“Of course.” He responds, voice coming out harsh and dry. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. “Anytime.” 

Samantha sighed deeply and rubbed at her face in exasperation. “Jesus, Josh, look at you.” In two swift strides she was before him, and he nearly jumped away in surprise. She blinked up at him and sighed, “Come on,” She grabbed his hand before he could protest and yanked him through her house. 

The place is a god damn mess, the thieves having done a real number on the place. She didn’t even seem to notice, not wanting to pay attention as exhaustion just rolled off of her in waves. She flicked on the light to the main bathroom and then yanked him inside, ushering him to sit on the toilet seat. 

They were quiet as Sam rummaged around her bathroom. She got a cloth and wet it under warm water, and grabbed some ointment. She stood in front of him and started to gently dab at the wound on his temple. He almost couldn’t believe this was happening, because it all felt surreal. Had this happened before? It felt like it had. Perhaps a long time ago, or in a past time or a past life. She had stood before him in a bathroom, and gently nursed a wound on his temple. He stopped breathing completely, just staring up at her with a dumbstruck look. 

“You’re beat to shit,” She sighed deeply, “What in the hell were you thinking?” 

He shrugged dumbly, “I was worried, and I didn’t want you to just walk in on this as it was happening, and I just wanted too –” 

“So you thought it would be a good idea to ambush me?” She rebuked easily. 

He blanched a little, “We haven’t even really met, and I didn’t know anything else to do. It all happened so fast,” He lowered his head, sheepishly. “I’m sorry.” 

She shook her head and kept dabbing at the blood on his temple, “It’s okay, I should be thanking you.” She finished wiping off the blood and then worked on trying to apply a bandage. “If it weren’t for you scaring the hell out of me, who knows what would have happened.” 

He chuckled weakly, “What are you talking about? You took two of them out all by yourself.” 

She laughed through the nose and went back to washing his temple, hands gently pulling his head forward so she can get any blood that’s behind his ear. Her eyes catch sight of black lettering on the nape of her neck, and curiosity gets the better of her. She hums a little in the back of her throat, “I didn’t take you for a tattoo kind of guy, Joshua,” 

She regrets it as soon as she says it, because he tenses up like a cat. His heckles rise, and before she can even ask, he pulls his collar up a little higher. “I’m not,” He deadpans. 

They fall into an awkward silence, her deft hands wiping away all the blood and then checking on his swollen eye. She realizes she has nothing to put on it and sighs, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you so beat up.” 

He just waves a hand to dismiss her, “It’s nothing, really.” 

She won’t win this argument and she knows it. “I at least owe you something.” 

He shrugs a shoulder, “Nah, you really don’t. It was the right thing to do, you know?”

She sighs, “Will you let me have one thing in my own damn house?” 

He chuckles, finding that she has a way of pulling laughter from him like no one else. “Can you at least explain that whole,” He mimicked her frantic chest pat, pressing his palm flat over his heartbeat as he did so. 

She blushed, and his heart stopped. It went all the way up to the tips of her ears and he almost couldn’t believe how god damn beautiful she was in this moment. Bruised up face or not. She was damn well beautiful. “When my anxiety gets really bad,” she began, hands moving as she spoke to accentuate her words. “I get nonverbal.” She slowly started to pat her chest, “Thats my signal that I’m having anxiety.” She blanched a little, “I guess it didn’t help that I kept doing it without you knowing what it meant.” 

Josh nodded in understanding, “Well, that’s good to know.” He looked up at her, concern falling over his features. “How do you feel now?” 

She shrugged, “Just fucking peachy.” She gestured up to her bruised and messed up temple, which was starting to swell to the point of messing up her vision in her right eye. 

He frowned a little, and his fingers moved on their own accord. They reached up to gently wipe a little bit of blood from her swollen and split lip. She gasped a little, body jumping in surprise as electricity shot through the both of them. Green pools looked at him with bewilderment, and he swore the mark on the nape of his neck burned. She had to be feeling this. She just had to. Was she moving towards him? Shit she was! Shit, shit, shit, shit! His mind went blank, but this was happening. 

Before anything could even happen, heavy boot falls echoed through the hallway. “Sam!” A frantic voice called through the front door, and a few frantic steps later there was an unfamiliar man at the doorway to the bathroom. 

She looked up, surprised, and a breathed almost in relief. “Mike!” Her hands slipped away from Josh and the skin she touched burned. He missed her touch the second it left. 

Josh sat there and watched as she threw her arms around this strangers neck, her body melting into his as his arms wrapped around her. “Shit, Sam, I was fucking worried.” 

Josh felt dirty just sitting here, like he was intruding on some intimate moment he had no business being a part of. He almost got up to leave. 

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked, clearly relieved that he had shown up, but unsure as to why or how. 

“I’m your emergency contact, you dip.” He reminded, “When the police arrived Mrs. Daughtry quickly contacted me to come over.” He then gestured to himself as if that would explain everything. “So here I am.” 

Dark eyes finally slid over to Josh, and he prickled visibly. “Who’s he?” One of his arms wrapped protectively around Sam’s waist. 

Josh felt himself nearly growl. It happened so quickly, he blinked to himself in surprise, completely caught off guard by the sudden onset of jealousy. What had gotten into him? He had absolutely no right to be this way. Hell, today was the first time they’d even had a conversation! Regardless of the fact that she’d said those two sacred words inscribed on the most vulnerable spot of his body. 

Sam came to the rescue and set a hand softly on her friends chest. “Easy, Mike. It’s fine.” She then gestured over to Josh, “This is my neighbor, Joshua. Who actually kept me from getting too hurt.” 

Mike looked like a protective dog, one hand still wrapped protectively around Sam’s waist as he held his other out for Josh to shake. The sheer difference in the two of them could be perfectly summed up by just their hands alone. Mike had thick callouses along his palm, and his arms were thick and well muscled. Josh on the other hand looked like a skeleton. He had barely any muscle to his form, and his fingers were essentially bones covered by skin. “It’s nice to meet you,” Josh offered weakly, giving a half assed hand shake. 

“Mike. It’s a pleasure.” The two of them pulled apart like they’d burned one another. An awkward beat. “Hey, look man,” His body language barely changed, but there was a slight relaxation in his shoulders. “Thanks. You know,” He gestured weakly to Sam, “For keeping her safe.” 

Josh just nodded dumbly, “No, yeah, of course.” He rubbed the nape of his neck, realizing that he’s probably looking at two very happy soul mates. Why else would he be her emergency contact? Why else would he have such a protective bent over her? It just made sense. Someone as beautiful, and smart, and talented as Samantha would obviously have someone as rough, rugged, and conventionally attractive as Mike. Why would the gods torture her by giving her someone like Josh as a soul mate? 

Unable to bare the awkward silence, Josh stood up and continued to rub at his neck. “I’ll uh, yeah.” He nodded, “No, yeah man, of course.” He forced a smile. “Thats what neighbors do, right? They watch each others’ backs.” He slipped his way past the two of them. 

A small hand gripped his elbow gently. “Hey, Josh?” 

He looked over his shoulder and saw Sam looking at him in concern. “Don’t be such a stranger, okay?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

And with that, he slipped away. There was absolutely no point in dwelling on something that could never be. She was happily matched to the man that bore her soul mark, and he hers. She was beautiful, and she deserved to be happy. If this Mike character made her happy, who was he to interfere? 

So the recluse slunk back into his cave, the door that kept the world from his precious sanctuary closing gently behind him. 

~ ~ ~ 

Sam

~ ~ ~ 

“Shit Sam, look at you,” Mike growled as he looked at the bruises and scraps she had along her body. His fingers slowly inched their way up her spine, where the rough landing from the knock out had left blemishes on her skin. “Jesus, those guys were damn brutes.” 

Sam sighed and inspected the massive bruise on her face. “Who knows what they would have done to me if Josh hadn’t been there.” 

She could hear Mike frown. “How do you know that guy again?” 

Sam just shrugged. “He just lives next door.” 

She knew that Mike didn’t buy that answer but it really didn’t matter by this point. His strong hands just pulled her a little closer to him, lips pressing softly to her skin. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

She set her hand gently over his, deciding that there were more important things than easing Mike’s worries. “Only down side is I look like a street fighter.” 

Mike laughed and continued to trail butterfly kisses around her back. “You’d be the best damn street fighter, and we both know it.” 

She just smiled down at him, turning around so she could face him. Her hands gently roamed into his hair as she looked down at him. “Thanks for coming, Mike. I don’t think I’d sleep tonight.” 

He just shrugged, “Anything for you.” 

She couldn’t help the pang of guilt that squeezed at her heart as Mike ran a thumb over the soul mark she desperately hid from the world. Perched on her rib cage, in delicate black ink, are just two words. 

_Don’t move._


	5. Nepenthe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nepenthe – (n-pen-THE). (n.) Something that can make you forget grief or suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay with me folks! I hear all of your praise and I am beyond elated to know that you're enjoying this ride as much as I am! Any and all feedback is needed and appreciated, so thank you for telling me all of your concerns and giving me all the encouragement to continue! 
> 
> Chapter 1 has been split into two parts, and both have been semi revised / edited again. Feel free to re-read them at your leisure. 
> 
> To answer a few things I've noticed: 
> 
> Sam and Mike are a "thing" but their definition of it is just as vague as I have described it. 
> 
> Josh's medication history / mental state is purposefully vague. It will get addressed in it's own time. 
> 
> The next chapter will be a little heavy

Sam

~ ~ ~

 

She doesn’t see him again for an entire week.

 On Sunday she was disappointed, but figured that he was resting his body after their encounter, which had left Sam sore to her very bones. She could only imagine what kind of aches poor Joshua had. Mike arrived with a new lock and doorknob, which they installed together. They cleaned her home from dawn till dusk, but there was still no sign of her neighbor.

~

 On Monday she still felt disappointed, but the feeling slowly started to drag itself more into sadness. After Mike brought her home from the pharmacy, she made it up the stairs with an ice pack on her temple. Luckily Mike had filled her up with enough aspirin to put a bear to sleep. As she approached her door she cast a glance to Josh’s apartment again. His house was still eerily quiet, with not a single sound emitting through the paper-thin walls. Even the door looked less vibrant.

~

On Tuesday she was annoyed, hand slamming her front door roughly as she returned home after work. Still his door remained closed, and still the silence was so loud she almost couldn’t think. She didn’t even bother to stop and take a picture.

~

Wednesday she graduated to anger, deciding that if he was going to be that way, then two could play. If he didn’t even have the decency to talk to her after Saturday, then she didn’t have to care. So she slammed her door, this time to leave, and stomped her way towards the stairs, damn well sure that would get his attention. She cast a glance over her shoulder before descending, only to see his door was still closed.

~

Thursday she was worried. This wasn’t like Joshua. She usually always saw him at least once a day, if not twice, and to have gone more than half the week without a single glance made her worried. She almost knocked on his door when she returned home, but the eerie lighting in the hallway made her hesitate. It recalled memories of a mineshaft, of grey light filtering in through the darkness, of cold and haze and snow and of blood curdling screeches in the darkness. Her throat tightened and she quickly retreated into her haven, unable to stay in that space any longer. She frantically called Mike, who arrived not thirty minutes later.

~

Friday is when it all finally culminated to a head. She had the day off, and spent a good chunk of the morning editing pictures on her laptop. She was cycling through the various pictures she’d taken of Joshua’s door, unable to suppress the smile that eased its way onto her lips.

Every single picture was different in some way, which only made her smile turn more and more vibrant. Some pictures captured a kind of liveliness to the door, like it was alive and breathing. It almost felt like it was welcoming her to enter, like an old friend. There were others that looked a little more somber, like the personification of the early hours of dawn. There was one she almost didn’t remember taking. It had Joshua, hair disheveled from sleep, his tank top riding up high on his belly, and sweatpants baggy and low on his hips. He was groggily sipping at his coffee, and the mid morning light bathed him in a glow that made her heart flutter. She secretly loved that he sometimes left his door open, giving her small glances into his sanctuary, his life. She felt the mark on her side tingle and on reflex set a hand over it. Could he be..?

There was knocking on a door outside, and on instinct Sam assumed it was hers. She got up and meandered towards the door, only to hear the knocking resume. She furrowed her brow and looked through the peephole, seeing that the guest was not at her door, but actually at Joshua’s. It was a guy, and judging by the way his jacket hugged his frame, he was clad in multiple layers. Satisfied that no one was at her door, Sam was about to leave, when she heard the guy knock on Joshua’s door again.

“Come on man, let me in!” She heard him say, quietly thankful for the thinness of the walls, which allowed for such clear understanding.

Silence.

More knocking.

“We talked about this bro, we operate on strict vampire rules here! I can’t just walk in, you have to let me in.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he was talking about the house, or Josh himself. Maybe both.

Silence.

Sam felt worry seize her heart in a vice grip. Why wasn’t Joshua answering? She returned to her door and slid the shiny new deadbolt open. She then slowly pulled back on the door, just enough to let the chain go taunt and peered through. “I don’t think he’s home.” She said.

The guy jumped a little in surprise and turned around, eyes locking onto Sam across the way. “What?”

Sam gently gestured to the door. “I haven’t heard a peep out of the house since Saturday. So, I don’t think he’s home.”

The guy went white as a sheet. He swallowed, which Sam could visibly see thanks to the bobbing of his Adam’s Apple. He turned around and knocked on the door a little louder now. “Bro, I really need you to answer.” He nearly sounded frantic.

Sam caught sight of three little bags clutched the guys’ hand, which looked like prescriptions. She let him knock a few more times before finally getting a little exasperated. “I told you, I don’t think he’s home.”

The blond waved her off, and answered cryptically. “You don’t know Josh.” Another knock, “He doesn’t leave his house.” He slammed the flat of his palm against the door hard.

Suddenly the door eased open, which came as such a shock that both Sam and the blond jumped a little. The small opening he gave revealed nothing but darkness on the other side. “Hey, Cochise,” Josh sounded like death itself.

Sam watched as the guy – apparently named Cochise? -- Sighed visibly in relief. “Hey buddy. I was getting worried.” An awkward beat. “Here, I got you these,” He held up the bags in offering. A familiar skeletal hand emerged from the blackness and gently took them, only to retreat back into the safety of the void.

“Thanks,”

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

And the door clicked shut.

~

 

Saturday is when Sam has finally had enough. She makes it home and trudges up the stairs, only to stop right outside Joshua’s door. She knocks, and is greeted by silence. She isn’t having any of that, so she knocks again. Still, silence. Her heart squeezes a little, but she knocks again, a little gentler this time. She almost wants to say something, but nothing really convincing comes to mind.

_‘Hey just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead!’_

_‘Haven’t seen you in a while, you okay?’_

_‘So you happened to say the words that have been inked on my skin since birth and I was wondering if maybe you were my soul mate and would like to spend the rest of our lives together?’_

_‘Have you eaten?’_

Despite the lack of convincing opening sentences, she isn’t deterred and continues to knock. After all it took his friend a good several minutes to get him to open the door. The lack of noise did nothing to help clam her racing heartbeat however. While Sam didn’t like admitting this to anyone, she had a terrible habit of quieting down when she arrived at her doorstep. Sometimes she could hear music coming from Joshs’ room, and the vague sounds of a movie or a videogame. Sometimes she’d even catch him singing. It was always those little things that made her want to photograph his door, like the liveliness of what was happening inside is what gave life to the otherwise lifeless object.

The silence was going to drive her insane. She knocked again. “Josh,” She called, having finally found the courage to speak. “It’s me, open up.”

Still, there is silence. She bites her lip, the cryptic words of his friend from yesterday stirring panic in her heart: _‘He never leaves his house.’_

She waits for a breathless minute, but still nothing comes. Dread settles into her stomach like a festering plague. It claws its way up from her belly and through her veins, where it infects the rest of her body. Desperate, Sam pulls her bag off her shoulder and rummages through it, managing to find a small scrap piece of paper and a pen. She sets the parcel to the wall and writes, her hand shaking a little in anxiety, which smudges her usually good handwriting.

 _‘Hey! Haven’t heard from you in a few days, and just wanted to check in. You okay?’_ She signed it with just a simple, _‘-S’_ and then slid the little piece of paper under the door. If he isn’t going to answer verbally, perhaps writing would be a little more helpful. After all, Sam knew what it was like to get so flustered that words just don’t form.

With great reluctance, she turned away from his door, and made it to her own, which opened flawlessly thanks to the new deadbolt. She’d never thought she’d thank God for a good lock, but here she was. Once the door was closed, she locked it and set the chain, deciding that some dinner was in order.

She changed into her comfortable clothes, and meandered around her kitchen, attempting to find something decent to eat. She kept stealing glances to her door, waiting for something – anything—to happen. She hoped Josh got her note. She hoped he was okay. Finding no use in wallowing, Sam returned her focus to finding something to eat. It didn’t help that there wasn’t much to eat in her fridge, or her pantry for that matter. She gave up on finding anything decent, and decided that microwave ramen was going to be as good as tonight got until she went grocery shopping.

As she waited for her meal to cook, the sound of crumpling paper reached her ears. Her head snapped towards her door, and she caught sight of a piece of crumpled up paper lying neatly on the floor. Her feet took her to it quicker than she had anticipated, and only when she’d picked it up did she realize how hard her heart was thumping in her chest. She took a second to catch her breath, unsure why something as mundane and innocent as a little note could get her blood pumping so much.

Satisfied she was calm enough to read, she looked down at the little scrap of paper, which bore a scrawled out note she could barely even make out. She wasn’t sure if the poor penmanship was due to nerves – she suffered from that herself – or just poor handwriting, but either way she felt that it was inherently /Joshua/. It read:

_‘I’m alive. Sorry I’ve been so quiet. Are you okay? – J’_

Sam couldn’t stop the relief that washed over her. He was alive, and he was okay; well, okay enough to respond to a little note. She grabbed another piece of paper and quickly wrote out a response. She threw the door open with more gusto than she meant, and slid the note into his home with a satisfied feeling. It read:

_‘Glad you’re alive; I was worried. I’m okay, just sore. Are you sure you’re okay? I haven’t seen you in a few days. -S’_

While unconventional, she was happy to at least have a conversation with him again, as their last left a lot to be desired. She wanted to ask him about his face scar. She wanted to ask him about the music he listens to. If his coffee is any good. Why he smokes. Why one of his eyes seems a little murkier than the other, is it partially blind? So many questions. She just wants to know him. It’s hard to explain really, but she has this almost visceral need to learn more about him.

She returns to her kitchen, where her bowl of ramen awaited her. Her stomach gave a hungry growl, “Alright, alright, easy. I’m feeding you.” She responded, deft hands picking up the bowl as she made it to her couch. She barely had enough time to sit down before a neatly folded piece of paper slid its way under her door. A little grin plucked at the side of her lips, and soon she was reading the next installment of their little back and forth.

_‘I’m okay, just been busy with some things that have kept me inside. Didn’t mean to startle you though. How’s the bruise? – J’_

She can’t help the smile that spreads over her face, seeing as his penmanship was a little better, but most of the letters still had shaky edges.

She wanders back to her place on the couch and takes a bite of her ramen, only to nearly burn her tongue! She sets it aside to cool and gets up to dig around her room for a discarded notebook, which she manages to find stuffed in her nightstand drawer. She’d nearly forgotten the damn thing existed, the dream journal having gone unused for nearly a year. Finding no other use for it than this little game of note passing, Sam grabs a pen and heads back to the couch, throwing on some Netflix to take up the background noise.

_‘Now what could have kept you so busy, that you’d hole yourself up in your home for a whole week? I highly doubt it was that important. – S’_

She briefly wondered if he’d catch onto her sarcastic and teasing tone. She hoped he would, because otherwise this note would come off a lot more accusing and aggressive than intended. She folded it up and quickly slid it under his door, only to return back to her cooling dinner.

Two spoon-fulls later, she had another note. This one was written much better, with a more controlled hand and even spacing between the letters. It was much more fitting of Joshua than the first few notes, which were stilted and rough, hands clearly tense as he wrote. She mused about the fact that everyone learns how to write, and combines the same twenty-six letters into various words, but everyone has their own unique handwriting. The more she read Josh’s notes, the more she endeared herself to his own unique style.  

_‘I don’t know about you, Ms. Samantha, but there is a particularly fascinating spot on my kitchen wall that requires gratuitous amounts of study. I just couldn’t ignore it, as it was begging to be analyzed. – J’_

She smiled despite the mouthful of food. He was witty and she liked that. She’d always been fond of quick wit. Her ramen was getting cold though, so she let the note sit for a little bit, deciding that it would be best to answer it when she had a full stomach. Not even five minutes pass before another note slides under her door. She lets an eyebrow raise and then gets up to inspect it, this one reading:

_‘Find a spot like mine in your own kitchen huh? I told you it was fascinating. You should really see mine. It’ll blow your mind. It’s like looking into the face of God. –J’_

A mischievous grin spread it’s way over her lips as Sam downed the rest of her ramen before penning a swift rebuttal for him.

_Maybe, but only if you ever decide to either come out of hiding, or let me in. Either way the choice is in your hands, my dear Joshua. – S’_

She got up and opened her front door, only to find that Joshua had left his slightly ajar. For the first time in a week, the door was open. For the first time in a week the door looked alive. She almost couldn’t breath: she was so relieved. The threshold that kept him separated from the rest of the world, the object that had fascinated her since the moment she arrived, finally looked alive again. She almost couldn’t believe it.

The urge to throw open that door, and boldly step into his apartment flashed by her minds eye, and for a split second she entertained it. The mere thought of catching Josh, clad probably in some kind of lazy attire, looking dumbstruck and bewildered at her, was enough to almost make her go through with it. Basic human decency, and a set of good manners kept her from intruding though. Damn her mother for instilling such strict social norms upon her! Without any fuss, she slid the note under his door with a satisfied little nod.

She barely even had enough time to clean her bowl and set it in the dishwasher before Josh’s note arrived. She walked over to get it, hand gently scooping it up and flipping it over to read. Her heart dropped a little as she scanned it, the stilted edges of his letters returning.

_‘Can I take a raincheck? I don’t think you fully understand the importance of my kitchen wall studying. It’s imperative that I get that done tonight. – J’_

She can’t help the slight disappointment that hangs heavy on her shoulders. She had hoped to see him, to make sure that he was as okay as his notes lead her to believe. She wanted to see if his eye had healed well. She wanted to make sure he was eating. She wanted to be close to him again. Her side tingled again, and a hand instinctually covered the mark on her skin.

She couldn’t press however. Judging from the sudden onset of reclusiveness, and the fact that his friend had brought him prescriptions, there’s a good chance something more was going on. She bit her lip a little and contemplated on what she should write.

After a moment of deliberation, she felt that same rush of boldness that caused her to run into her apartment mid ransacking. She quickly penned her response, and slid it in the tiny opening he had left.

_‘If it’s that important, I think you could use a second set of eyes on the matter. After all, four eyes are better than two. – S’_

She turned to head back into her own apartment, only to have a swift response slid over the hardwood floor and tap against her foot. She looked down in complete surprise, because it almost seemed as if he was ready for this. Her heart jumped into her throat, eyes scanning the little scrap near her foot. All it had on it was a single phrase, but one that mean the world.

_“Sure, come over.”_

 


	6. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is something beautiful about all scars of whatever nature. A scar means the hurt is over, the wound is closed and healed, done with.” – Harry Crews.

~ ~ ~

Sam

~ ~ ~

 

She almost couldn’t breath. He invited her over, she’d actually cross the threshold and into his apartment. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, so loudly that she was sure that Josh could hear it! Her feet moved before she could even finish the thought, and in one swift motion, she threw open the door to Josh’s apartment.

Sam stood in the doorway, eyes locked right on a shocked, and bewildered Josh. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, the urge to photograph this moment strong in her veins. They stood there, neither one of them breathing, and just stared at one another. It were as if they suddenly became stuck in time, and no matter how long they stood there the clock on the wall would remain frozen forever. The longer they stood, the more of him Sam took in, and slowly her smile faded from her lips. Her heart inched its way up her throat, and her chest grew tight as worry gripped her tight.

There he was: Joshua, her mysterious, reclusive, charming, and intriguing neighbor. He was disheveled, very much looking like a skeleton had decided to just parade around in his clothes for an afternoon. The shadows from the hallway lights and the darkness of his room, cast him in a jarring light. His collarbones jutted painfully out against the loose long sleeve he wore, and his shoulders hunched just enough to make his chest look sunken and sickly. The sweatpants he wore were low on his waist, his hipbones poking through and making her heart ache.  She could barely make out the dark bruises that marred the soft skin beneath his eyes, and Sam had a hard time distinguishing if they were from the fight, or from days of no sleep. He looked awful.

“Oh Josh,” Sam breathed, nothing but concern and worry lacing her words. She passed the door and stepped towards him, only to have him retreat. He shook his head gently, but didn’t say anything else on the matter, probably hoping that Sam would take that as a satisfactory answer.

Trouble is, Josh doesn’t know Sam very well, and she took another bold step towards him, closing the gap that separated them. Her hands, swift but gentle, reached out and took his wrists; he tensed like she’d shocked him, which caused Sam to frown. “Josh,” She said again softly, “What happened?”

He shrugged a shoulder absently, as if that would somehow satisfy her need for answers. “It’s nothing, Sam, really.” He tried to lie, but she saw right through it.

“This isn’t **_‘nothing’_** , Josh! Look at you,” She frowned and ran a thumb over the delicate skin of his wrist,which she’d found thanks to his sleeve ridding up. “Come on,” She gave a gentle tug, ushering him to follow her, but he seemed reluctant. “I’m going to get you something to eat,” She clarified, testing to see if that would get his feet to move. Another tug, and he gave in, feet sliding over the hardwood as she lead him gently around his apartment.

The place was dark, pitch black even, with only the filtered in lights from the city giving them any sense of direction. “Where’s the lights Josh?” She asked, turning back to look at him.

“Here,” He passed her, and vanished into the darkness, leaving Sam to briefly wonder if he had some kind of night vision with how easily he navigated the darkness. A cheap set of lights illuminated the small apartment, but she could forgive that, seeing as she could finally /see/ his apartment and him for that matter.

It was simplistic, with just the bare minimum of furniture to let him live. There was a large couch, which looked sinfully comfortable, a small side table, and the coffee table. There really wasn’t much else there, it was simple, easy, and very much Joshua. Her eyes landed back on Josh, who stood awkwardly by the lamp in the corner. His arms were pulled tight in against his sides, and his back hunched. “So, uh, welcome.” He smiled as best he could, but it looked forced.

“Josh,” She started and she approached him again. “What happened?” Her hands moved on their own, and she found purchase on one of his arms. He jumped like she’d shocked him, and her heart dropped when she realized her small fingers could nearly curl around his arm. She pressed in closer than she intended, but he didn’t move away.

“Nothing, Sam, really. It’s nothing.” He set a hand over hers, and the warmth of his palm eased her racing heartbeat. “Okay? I promise, I’m okay. See?” He smiled broadly, this one a little more genuine than the first.

She signed and laughed a little through the nose. “Alright, alright. You’re fine.” She squeezed his arm. “Have you eaten today?” Concern eased its way into her voice before she could stop it.

He shrugged a little, “Yeah, I had something earlier.” His hand squeezed hers before he took a step back. “I was actually about to put on a movie.” He gestured towards the laptop situated on the coffee table. “If you’d…like the join me?”

Sam had this gut feeling that he was lying, so she gave a lie of her own. “Well, I haven’t eaten, mind if I get us a pizza?” She held out her phone in offering. “I even have the local place two blocks down on speed dial.” She waved her phone in a tantalizing way and smiled. “Come on, I’ll even pay. Only catch is half of it has to be vegan. Whole reason I like that place.”

She saw Josh’s shoulders slowly relax a little, and he smiled, this one barely reaching his eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll have a slice or two, but only if you’re paying.” There was a mirthful quality to his voice, and it made her heart flutter. “Make the whole thing vegan, I really don’t care, as long as it’s food.”

One phone call later, and pizza was on its way. “Now that that’s over with,” Josh moved back to his couch and gestured to his laptop. “How about that movie?”

Sam smiled broadly and nested herself on the far edge of the couch. She wasn’t surprised when it really was as comfortable as she originally thought. “So, what are we going to watch?”

Josh shrugged a little as he leaned forward, “Well, that depends.” He leveled Sam in a serious look. “What’s your favorite movie?”

She bit her lip, trying to come up with something that would both impress, and blow him away. It had to be a good one. Something thrilling, something emotional, something beyond their time! “I suppose that depends on the genre,” She began, trying to turn the question back on him. “I have multiple favorite movies, but each one has a different major genre.”

Josh wasn’t so easily fooled however. “Okay, I can give you that, my dear Samantha, but everyone has /the/ favorite movie.”

She chewed on the inside of her lip. He got here there. “Okay, okay. Umm,” She tried to rack her brain, “I don’t know, what’s yours?”

Josh smirked, “Don’t change the subject, Sam, I’m asking you.”

“Well maybe I want to know your favorite movie.”

“Or you’re just stalling for time.”

“Or maybe I’m /actually/ curious.”

“You’re such a bullshitter, but fine, my favorite movie is The Godfather.”

“Really? The Godfather? Come on Josh, could you be more pretentious?”

“Oh, /I’m/ the pretentious one? What’s yours? No, no, let me guess, it’s totally ‘Forest Gump.’”

“No, not even close! It’s actually ‘Toy Story 3!”

Josh laughed like she’d said a truly hilarious joke. He clutched his sides and continued to chuckle, waving a hand to try and dismiss her coming protests. “Wait, wait, hold on! Oh my god, just listen to me!” He was talking through laughter, “I promise you’ll love this, just listen to me.”

He then went into a massive rant about how Toy Story 2 and 3 are literally the same story. He talked about how the writing was lazy, explaining how each conflict was no more than a convenient plot point that pushed the movie forward. He also brought up how the formula is the exact same in both movies. The opening cinematic scene is nothing more than a massive over exaggeration of a game being played. Some toys are seen as useless, and are gathered up, leaving one or more of the protagonists to get mixed up with the other unwanted toys. They are then shipped away to a place of safety, promised eternal love and repairs whenever needed. A plump, and loveable character is later revealed to be the antagonist, with gratuitous flash back scenes of established characters being abandoned in the countryside. The protagonists are then set in some kind of industrial setting, where the antagonist is then picked up by a new owner, who presumably has no care for their future well being.

The whole time he rambled on about the films, Sam just sat there, almost stunned. This felt so familiar, like they’d done this a thousand times before, and would do it a thousand times again. The way he moved, the animation of his face and his body, how passionate he spoke about movies, everything about this scene was familiar. He visibly relaxed, any tenseness in his form just vanishing away, and his voice took on a familiar lit, and his eyes sparkled. She was presently in this moment, one hundred and ten percent here, just experiencing him in this moment of raw emotion. It took every fiber of her being to not kiss him. She wasn’t even sure why she wanted to kiss him, but she knew that she did.     

There was an odd sense of relief, like she were seeing a part of Josh that she hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Whoever she met when she first walked in, was not the Josh she was seeing now. That was some cheap imitation, a barely comprehensible caricature of who he truly is. The person before her is the real Josh. She wants to kiss him. God damn does she want to kiss him.

The doorbell ringing interrupts them, and the sound is so sudden and jarring that both of them jump in surprise. “Pizza’s here,” Sam realizes, and untangles herself from the couch before going to grab the door. She pays and tips the pizza guy and then returns to the table, a smile plastered on her face. “And dinner, monsieur, is served.” She said it in an overly dramatic French accent, which made Josh smirk.

“Mmm, Merci, mon cher Samantha, vous êtes très aimable.*” Came the swift response, a smirk overtaking his face as she blinked at him in shock.

“You speak French?!” She was beside herself.

“Bien sûr, je parle français, n'est-ce pas?*” He said again, smirk turning into a full on grin by this point.

“That’s amazing! I can’t believe that! Where did you learn?” She sets the pizza down on the coffee table and sits herself a little closer to Josh this time.

He chuckled and shook his head, clearly amused by Sam’s fascination with his multilingual talents, “My family has a ski lodge up in Canada, and we’d spend a lot of time there if not in LA. So my mother put us in French classes for when we took our vacations.” He leaned forward and grabbed a slice from the box.

Sam furrowed her brow a little, her hand reaching over to grab a slice of pizza of her own. “Who’s ‘we’?”

Josh was half way into his slice when the question hit him, and he blinked a few times. “Oh,” He swallowed the massive bite he’d taken, “I have two sisters, Hannah and Bethany. They’re identical twins and two years younger than I am.” He finished off that slice and then reached for another.

Sam gave a nod, but couldn’t help but notice how Josh was already on his second piece. Her earlier hunch was right, he hadn’t eaten today, and she felt her heart swell a little with joy watching him take care of himself. “Do you get along with them?” She wanted to stall, figuring that if he kept talking, he wouldn’t pay attention to how much he was eating, and therefore eat more.

Josh nodded a little and a kind of wistful smile overtook his features. “Yeah, we’ve always been best friends. We’d get into all kinds of mischief, mostly because our parents weren’t really around.” He laughed at nothing in particular, or maybe a memory of some kind. “We used to play this game, where we’d watch all the horrible ‘Soul Mark Trope’ movies. You know, the usual, uncharismatic female lead, who’s life is only ‘completed’ when she meets her prince charming, who just so happens to have her soul mark? And they have this stupid, meet cute thing, and it’s just gag inducing.”

He paused as he chuckled, more rambling than really telling a story at this point. Sam didn’t care though, she found this entire exchange so endearing. “And Hannah, bless her, would always swoon over the guy. You know, tall, lean, hunky? Sorta like your guy friend.” He waved his hand dismissively, like he didn’t know Mike’s name. “And Beth and I would count how many times she’d sigh dreamily throughout the movie.”

He gave his best rendition of said dreamy sigh, his arms pulling in tight against his chest, chin resting on his knuckles, and he breathed in deeply, batted his eyelashes, and gave a massive, love-sick sigh through the nose. Sam laughed. It was probably one of the first true belly laugh’s she’d had in a long while. She laughed until her sides hurt. It was so spot on, so perfect in its melodramatic and sappy way that she couldn’t help but laugh.

After a moment or two, Sam collected herself and smiled, a few stray chuckles escaping as she looked back over to Josh. Had she always been this close to him? She slowly realized that in her laughter, she’d rocked a little closer to him, and was now situated squarely at his side. She smiled, and he returned it. Her heart leapt into her throat. Did his eyes always have that depth to them? She swore she could lose herself in them. “They sound wonderful,” She breathed, the close proximity causing her voice to quiet a little, like she were afraid of breaking whatever connection they currently had.

Josh just nodded, his smile turning a touch more melancholy. “Yeah, they really are.” He trailed off, and Sam briefly wondered if there was a reason he spoke of them in such a nostalgic way.

“Do you see them a lot?” She pressed, trying to be diplomatic and gentle around the topic.

He shook his head and sighed, “Nah, not really, not anymore.”

“I bet they’d love to see you.”

“I don’t think so,”

“And why not?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’m…well I’m kind of the black sheep of the family. So I’m a little estranged. Which isn’t really hard, considering my dad was never around when we were little, and neither was my mom.” He leaned forward and away from Sam, she couldn’t stop her hands from finding purchase on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear that Josh,” Her thumb rubbed soothing circles into his skin. They fell into a silence that wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t really awkward either. It just existed. Sam chewed on her lip lightly and pulled away slowly, deciding to try and bring them back to more pleasant conversation.  “Your sister, Hannah, sounds like a real romantic, but I wouldn’t knock her taste in movies just yet, my dear Joshua.” She let that playful edge undertone her words.

He looked up at her with a raised brow and sat back a little, arms crossing over his chest, “Oh? And why is that, my dear Samantha?”

She mimicked him, doing it in such an overly exaggerated way that a smirk came back to his face. “Well, if it wasn’t for those movies, I never would have become a photographer, and if I wasn’t a photographer, I wouldn’t have started my little social project, and if I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have moved next door. So you’d be here, all alone.”

“Yeah, yeah, and it’s just like that crappy movie with Ashton Kutcher and Amy Smart. I swear if you say – ‘

“It’s just like the butterfly effect!” She exclaimed, and Josh groaned loudly.

“You have, quite literally, the worst taste in movies, Sam.”

She smirked, “That means you’ve seen it, and you can’t deny my claim. If it wasn’t for a crappy Soul Mark movie when I was a kid, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

He rolled his eyes, “There has to be a more convincing reason as to why you became a photographer. I mean, come on Sam, that’s just terrible. How could such a crappy genre possibly inspire you?”

She shrugged, “Nope. If it wasn’t for those movies, I would have never picked up a camera. And that’s the gospel truth.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, clearly amused. “Okay, so why? Why did those movies inspire you? I mean, it couldn’t have been their plot.”

She swatted at his arm, “What else is there to say? I loved the movies as a kid, mainly because my parents were hopeless saps. And, maybe I had a childhood dream to fall in love like that.”

Josh laughed. “I know you aren’t naïve, Sam, I just know you aren’t. You’re way to smart to fall for that kind of cinematic bullshit. Come on,”

She pointed at him, finger almost accusing, but not quite. “See? That right there is why I started my project! Love, -- and true love for that matter – are such cynical topics. Everyone floats through life looking for their soul mate, for the person who bears a mark that you left on them since birth. They go years, lifetimes even, without meeting them. People are lonely, and that makes them cynical. I wanted to bring some of the romance back into our lives. So I started Project: Soul Mark.”

He looked at her like he knew something she didn’t. Or something he wasn’t willing to tell her he knew. It was a mix between disbelief, and annoyance. “Yeah, sure, Sam. Whatever you say.” He chimed in, and reached for his fourth slice of pizza.

“Come on Josh, you have to at least admit that I’m onto something here. There’s no romance in the world anymore. People are starving for some kind of connection, but they’re too afraid to get attached due to Soul Marks. They’re wasting away emotionally! What’s so wrong with wanting to bring back a little romance?”

“Okay, and what do you exactly want to accomplish? What do you think your project is bringing about?” He was playing devils advocate and Sam caught on. It’s a good thing he’s a good debater and quick on his feet, otherwise she’d be thoroughly annoyed. It also didn’t help that there was a sparkle in his eyes she hadn’t seen before, a kind of life that made her stomach flutter with butterflies.

“Well, I’ve been working on the project for two years now, and have been successful in bringing together four pairs of soul mates.” She sat back a little, and smiled, clearly proud.

“Four pairs in two years? Eight people? Really?” He didn’t sound impressed.

“Hey, that’s actually pretty good, considering it’s just a photography project.”

“And what do you photograph exactly?”

“Soul Marks.”

“Okay, so where’s yours?”

“Wow Josh, and you didn’t even take me out to dinner first? I’m appalled.”

He blushed a little in embarrassment, hand rubbing sheepishly at the side of his neck. “Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away in the debate.” He looked like a kid who got caught in a lie, and that got Sam’s attention.

She raised an eyebrow; “I could show you the project, if you’re so interested.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t really, well I don’t mean to be so cynical, but I don’t really care about soul marks all that much.” He admitted, head ducked.

Now she was really interested. “You aren’t the first person I’ve met that’s said that to me. What’s your reason?”

Josh shrugged in a noncommittal away. “It just feels so forced. You don’t get go out and meet people. You don’t get life experiences by searching for love in people whom you think may be the one, but actually aren’t. You’re just stuck with this person for the rest of your life because of fate. Is that all that we are in the universe? Are we just puppets to be controlled by an invisible hand?” He scratched roughly at the back of his neck, as if attempting to rid himself of something.

For a moment, Sam briefly wondered if Josh was interested in philosophy, judging by the way he spoke. If not philosophy, perhaps poetry, because he had a way about him, a way of talking that set her in near awe. He was articulate, witty, and clearly intelligent, which just seemed to belay his over all appearance. Truthfully, Sam rather liked that about him. She loved how he always seemed to surprise her in one way or another. He was endearing, and she found that she loved that about him.

“I don’t really think so.” She commented after a moment of silence.  “Soul mates always have a way of finding one another. In their own way, and in their own time.”

“And what about those who never do? What about those people?” He spat, clearly bitter about something. A second later he softened, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to lash out at you.”

Sam took it in stride. She’d met plenty of people during her travels for Project Soul Mark that snapped at her for no reason other than that she was nearby. “Everyone meets their soul mate eventually, Josh. I mean, it took my parents fifteen years to find each other. You’ll find yours.” She tentatively set a hand on his shoulder, and nearly gasped when a jolt of electricity seemed to shoot through them.

He looked up and she caught his gaze, and for a breathless second they were suspended in time. They just sat there, staring at one another, losing themselves in the presence of the other. Without even thinking, Sam ran her thumb over his shoulder, feeling the sharp edges of his shoulder blade as it jutted roughly through his shirt. She had to swallow the urge to pull him to her chest.

“Sometimes, it helps if you show your mark to someone.” She said, voice low and breathy. She hadn’t intended for it to sound so sensual, but the connection between them was so fragile she feared her mere voice would break it.

“You don’t want to see it, Sam, no one wants to see it.” He whispered back, seemingly feeling the same urge she was.

“What if I want to see it?” She rebutted.

He swallowed and for a moment she swore he was going to say no. They sat in silence as he deliberated her request, and right as Sam was about to pull away and tell him it was okay, he sucked in a breath.

“Okay,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 has been broken into two parts. Feel free to read them at your leisure.   
> This chapter was going to be a lot darker, but that may still come in next time.   
> Josh says: 1) "Thank you, my dear Samantha, you are too kind." and 2) "Of course I speak French, don't you?"


	7. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happiness is an illusion.

_The sun filters in through the window, bathing her room in a soft glow. She’s groggy from sleep, but she’s warm, and her hands have found purchase in soft hair. She runs her fingers through those soft locks, and keeps him cradled in her arms, feeling warm breath tickle her bare side. She smiles, feeling safe, as no nightmare disturbed her slumber._

_He moves against her, grumbling lowly in the back of his throat in protest. She smiles and runs her fingers down his neck and to his broad shoulders. “Good morning,” She whispers, trying to pull him up for a kiss._

_He slowly obliges and leans up to lay a sleepy kiss upon her lips, his arms gently tightening around her body. He mumbles something lowly, and pulls her close, drowsy kisses trailing down her neck and to her collarbone. “Morning,” He doesn’t even open his eyes, but pulls his arms out to readjust himself atop her. His fingers gently graze the mark on her skin, and silence slowly filters between them._

_“You ever thought about getting your own photograph for your mark?”_

_She keeps running her fingers through his hair gently, “Only when you let me take one of yours.”_

_He chuckles softly, and continues to kiss around her soft collarbones. “Mmm, you know that isn’t going to happen.”_

_“Exactly.”_

_He slowly sits up, the sheets pooling around his hips as he looks down at her. He smirks and jumps a little when her fingers find his hipbones, the pad of her thumb running over the mark etched on his own skin. He sets a hand on her rib cage, returning the gesture._

_He looks down at her and her heart squeezes a little in guilt. The first words he ever spoke to her, weren’t the one’s marked on her skin, and she didn’t have a mark like his anywhere on her body. She muses lightly about how maybe that’s why neither of them wants their soul marks photographed, or even seen._

_They’re just two people, pretending to be soul mates, when the marks on their bodies prove that to be a blatant lie._

 

~ ~ ~

Josh

~ ~ ~

        

He isn’t even sure if he’s breathing or not. He’s fairly certain he isn’t, simply because his heartbeat is pounding so loudly in his ears, he can’t make out the even rhythm. His focus is pulled to a razor sharp point as her hands move from his shoulder, to his arm. She’s talking, but he can’t make out her words. He’s too focused on the fact that the heat, which radiates from her palms, is soothing aches he didn’t even know he had. He never wants her hands to leave.

“Josh?” He hears her say, but he’s not focused on her voice, he’s focused on how her fingers trace invisible patterns on his sleeve. His eyes are trained squarely on the floor before him, not wanting to trick himself with what the eyes see, but rather just experience this moment in it’s fullest. When was the last time someone touched him with such gentle, caring hands? He tries to remember, but all he can think of are rough ones and even rougher restraints in a white walled room, with white dressed nurses and doctors.

“Josh?” Her voice is louder now and it cuts through the din of his thoughts, and only then does he realize he’d been shaking. He looks to her, befuddled, and finds nothing but concern in her eyes. “Are you okay?” She ventures, voice gentle but hands firm. She’s like an anchor grounding him in a rough sea.

He nods, “Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He tries to cover up his anxiety with brevity. “Just zoned out is all. You know, too many movies have just fried my brain to bacon.”

She smiles and laughs through the nose, but he knows that he hasn’t fooled her. She’s much too sharp for that. “You know, if you don’t really want to show me your soul mark, you don’t have too.” She’s trying to ease his concern, and he’s grateful for it, but they’re already in too deep; he’s already in too deep.

He can’t shake this gnawing desire to show her, to bare this part of him to her in a way that only she’d understand. Like if she just saw this part of him, she’d know. What it is exactly that she’d know, he wasn’t even sure, but she’d know something. “No, it’s okay. It’s good for your project, right?”

She nods and squeezes his shoulder. “Where is it?”

Instinctually, his hand goes to the nape of his neck. His fingers tickle the delicate skin there, and he sucks in a breath. “It’s right here.”

She moves to sit behind him on the couch, and after a moment of adjusting, Josh decides that it’ll be easier if he’s on the floor. Once they’re both situated, they pause, as if waiting for some kind of verbal or physical queue that it’s okay to look. He quickly finds a new respect for Sam when she waits, clearly not wanting to violate his personal space; not that he’d really mind having such a lovely person invade his personal bubble, but hey, it’s the thought that really counts. 

Words fail him, so he just nods, and when her fingers find his neck he nearly jumps right out of his skin. Every nerve is on fire, and everything around him quiets to the point of being eerie. He feels her fingers, calloused and strong, gently pull back the collar of his shirt, and swears he can hear her smile. Her fingers are warm as they curl around his neck, thumbs running over the delicate skin of his nape. “ _’Thank you,’_ ” She quotes, and continues to feel the mark, as if that’ll somehow etch the words in her mind. “How many times do you hear that a day?” She’s trying to lighten the mood, which had gotten surprisingly heavy. 

He doesn’t answer, which seems to be enough for her. She scoots a little closer, legs uncurling from underneath her frame so they can rest on either side of his shoulders. She’s gentle as she pushes his head forward, as if inspecting his soul mark from every angle. “You know,” She starts, and only when his lungs burn for air does he realize he hasn’t been breathing. “Yours would make an amazing photograph.”

“It would?” He croaks, throat parched and his mouth dry. He couldn’t help the fluttering of his stomach, and how she made it flip flop around with each movement of her fingers.

“Yeah, it’s so simple, unexpected, and romantic. Oh!” Her hands gripped his shoulders a little tighter, “I even have the perfect idea on how to set you up!” Her legs swing around and suddenly she is in front of him. He blinks, baffled, not even fully aware that she could move that fluidly. “Stand up,” She instructs, and bounces a little on the balls of her feet.

He does as she asks, but pulls his arms in tight around his stomach. His stomach flips a little in nervousness, palms going sweaty as she inspects him like a fine piece of art. “Okay, take off your shirt, and turn around.” She takes a step back and waits for him to comply.

Josh feels his heart plummet straight into the earth. She wants him to take off his shirt? _“Oh no, oh no, oh no!”_ His mind chants again, and again. His chest constricts tight as anxiety grabs hold of him in a death grip. His breaths come in quickly and shallowly.

_“That’s right, Joshua, why don’t you take off your shirt and show her how pathetic you really are? Bare yourself to her and watch as she leaves you, alone, and worthless.”_

The snake voice returns and Josh has to violently shake his head to try and dislodge it. It persists, voice hissing sweetly in his ear. Josh tries to ignore it, but it just spits more venom. _“You’re nothing, Joshua, nothing to her! Show her your scars. Show her how pathetic and weak and SAD you are!”_

Josh folds in a little more on himself and looks away: he can’t look at her. He shakes his head roughly. “D-do, I h-have t-to?” He cursed inwardly, hating his anxious stutter.

Sam’s brows furrow in concern, and she quickly closes the gap between them, hands finding his arm. She squeezes softly, “It’s okay. Really. The placement is just hard to see with your shirt on.” She’s trying to ease his worries but it isn’t working. He can’t let her see him like this. He can’t let her see him as he is.

He swallows, “I d-don’t w-want t-to t-take it off.” He grit his teeth hard, all in a desperate attempt to calm his racing heartbeat, his shaking knees, and his weak voice.

_“Show her, Joshua. Show her how pathetic you are when the loneliness consumes you. Let her see how fucking psychotic you are.”_

He recoils like the voice physically struck him. His feet move without him thinking about it, and soon he is an entire arms length away from her. He turns away, unable to stomach the look of worry on her face. He hunches in on himself, like the weight of his sins are just too heavy to bare, “I d-don’t w-want you t-to see…”

Soft hands set themselves on his shoulders and he jumps like she’d shocked him. He retreats again, afraid that if she touches him, that would somehow let her know what hid beneath the fabric of his shirt. He couldn’t let her see this part of him. He couldn’t let his mania ruin their night – which had been going so well.

“You’re okay Josh. It’s okay. If you don’t want to show me, you don’t have too. I’m sorry if I crossed any lines.” She’s talking gently again, in that soothing way she seemed to take on when his moods would shift. She’s so gentle with him, and the wounds that cover his arms sear like brands. They’re the mark of the guilty, of the disturbed, and are nothing more than physical reminders of how fucked up he is.

He can’t help but notice how the warmth of her hands soothes his racing heartbeat, however. He can’t help but feel safe when she presses in close and talks in that gentle way, but he knows that seeing these wounds would only make her despise him. The only person who’s ever generally tolerated – and he uses that word lightly -- his unhealthy habits is Beth, and even then she’d usually come up with various other ways to help him cope. Trouble is, his sister isn’t here, and when the night closes in he can’t help but cut out the pieces of him he doesn’t like.

“I’m s-sorry,” he apologizes, and once the floodgate opens, he can’t stop. He apologizes over and over again, the words tumbling from his mouth in uneven and jagged breaths. He isn’t even sure what he’s apologizing for.

“It’s okay Josh, it’s okay.” She meets each apology with reassurance. “You’re okay, and I’m okay. Everything is okay.”

He violently shakes his head, “No, no I’m not okay.”

Her brows pull in, “Okay, and what can I do to help?”

“Nothing. You can’t help me.”

“What if I want to try?”

“This isn’t something you can help me with.”

“I bet I could.”

“No you can’t.”

“You don’t know unless you try –“

“I SAID YOU COULDN’T HELP ME!” He bellows, and he roughly pushes her away.

Sam stumbles back a little, shock in her eyes, but it quickly steels over into determination. “If you’re hurt Josh, I want to help you.” She takes a few bold steps towards him.

He retreats and hits his calves against the couch, which causes him to lose his balance and before he knows it, he’s sitting, and she’s towering above him. His heart races, and he looks up at her, expecting a rough hand to connect to his head. His mind warps the scene, making Sam’s beautiful face twist and contort until it was nothing more than a muted look of a nurse who’s just emotionless as she ties down his legs. Instead of the brilliant shade of red that she’s wearing, it drains itself like blood until nothing but stark white is underneath. His walls bleed themselves dry until he’s surrounded by a white so white it burns his eyes. He shakes, and holds his hands up in defense. “N-no! G-go away!”

He tenses. He waits for rough hands to grip his wrists so tightly it hurts. He waits for strong arms to push him back against the couch as unforgiving leather belts are tied around his ankles and thighs. He waits for the needle to prick his skin and his mind to swim as the morphine saturates his brain. He waits, but what comes isn’t what he’s expecting.

Warm hands find his, and small, but strong, fingers curl around each hand. A voice, soft and soothing like warm tea, cuts through his frantic thoughts. “You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and gentle fingers cup his cheek. He’s heaving, pulling in lung-fulls of air in uneven intervals. “Look at me, Josh,” She says softly, trying to turn his head to face her.

He slowly complies, but he’s afraid. He’s afraid to see that dull look of apathy that he’s grown so accustomed too. He doesn’t want to see white walls and even whiter uniforms. Her thumb runs across his cheekbone, and then over his mouth scar. He can feel her pulse through the pad, and his chest tightens for a different reason. Brown eyes find green, and he has to hold his breath.

It’s Sam. It’s her, and she’s radiant like the sun. Her eyes are just as gentle as her fingers, and there isn’t a trace of apathy to her features. In fact, she looks concerned, and that compassion makes his heart hurt. “I’m not going to hurt you,” She repeats, fingers flexing gently against his jaw. “You’re safe,” She smiles so gently he’s sure his heart is nothing more than a puddle on the floor.

He moves without thinking, and suddenly he’s returning the gesture. His hand, so massive compared to hers, cups her cheek perfectly. His fingers are so long they graze her soft blond tresses. His breath catches in his throat as she moves to press against his palm. It was a familiar gesture; one that he wasn’t sure was suitable for two friends. He didn’t care though. She is warm. She is warm and she feels safe and he swallows the need to kiss her.

Josh breaths deeply for the first time in what felt like hours. She’s smiling at him, “There we go,” Her voice is soft, like a birdsong. “There’s Josh.” She’s so god damn soft with him, and it makes his heart ache. “There he is,” Her thumbs move up, so she can gently stroke the bags beneath his eyes. “There he is.” When did she start whispering?

“I’m sorry,” His hands fall away from her face, and he instead grips her wrists.

“Shh,” she soothes, her right hand moving up into his hair. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

They’re silent for a few moments, just taking this breath of eternity to collect their thoughts and racing heartbeats. Josh feels his mind start to slowly clear; the haze of anxiety fades away to allow him clear thought. He finds Sam is breathing a little softer now as well, like the whole ordeal had sent her into her own little episode. He remembers she has anxiety and he goes to apologize, but a sudden buzzing on the coffee table stops them.

They jump in surprise and Josh realizes it’s his phone, with the screen lit up to simply read ‘Pills’ as it buzzes obnoxiously. He sighs and reaches over to grab it, and shuts the alarm off. His eyes travel back to Sam, “Sorry, I have to set an alarm for my medicine, so I remember.”

Her hands hadn’t slipped away from him when he moved, and returned to their soothing ministrations the second he settled. She just kept carding her fingers through his hair, the other hand stroking his cheek. “Where are your pills? I’ll get them, and a glass of water for you.”

He doesn’t want her to leave. “Please don’t move,”

She goes rigid for a split second, and for a beat her hands freeze. She quickly regains her composure, and continues. “You have to take your medicine, Joshua,” There’s a tone to her voice, like she knows how important it is for him to take them. She can’t know the extent of his medicine, as they’ve never discussed it, but why does it feel like she knows exactly what’ll happen if he doesn’t take his pills? He wants to ask her, but she’s moving away. He reaches for her, but she’s a hairs breath from his fingertips. “Where are they?” She repeats, firm on the matter.

He feels frozen without her warmth, like the frigid cold of his mountain get away had suddenly blown into his window and frozen him solid. Rational thought tells him that if he wants to have her warmth back, then he needs to take his medicine, which over all is a win-win. “By the coffee pot.” He says, voice still hoarse from his earlier hyperventilating.

She disappears into the kitchen, and he almost gets up to follow her, but his legs feel like lead. He’s tired, exhausted even, and his body is finally just shutting down on him. He thinks this is a good thing, as he’ll finally get some respite from the voices and the loneliness if he just sleeps. Not until he says goodbye to Sam, though. Not until he takes his medicine and feels her hands through his hair again.

He’s half asleep when she returns, and the sensation of her fingers combing his hair jars him awake with a start. His eyes are wide, and his heart seizes as he looks for his assailant, but when he sees its Sam, he breaths. “Sorry,” There he is apologizing again. He tries to swallow another one, “I dozed off,”

She just smiles and offers him the glass of water, and then his three different pill bottles. He assumes she didn’t read the dosage, and that’s why she brought the whole bottles, but it’s the thought that counts after all. He pops each bottle open and takes out two of each pill, downing them with a mouth full of water. He sighs, and then downs the rest of the glass, which she promptly takes and replaces with another. “Feeling better?” She asks, still standing before him, hands roaming through his hair.

He nods, unable to really speak, as he just wants to be in this moment. He wants to hold on for as long as he can until something eventually pulls her back to her own apartment. “Good,” she murmurs, hands soft as she pulls him in for a hug. Her arms encircle his head gently, and they’re at just the right height difference for him to press his ear to her chest and hear her heartbeat. It’s soothing, going at just the right rhythm to calm his frayed nerves. “Thank you,” He whispers against her collarbone, and she pulls in a deep breath, hands squeezing him gently.

His arms wrap around her waist, and when his fingers gently brush the mark on her side she gasps. He recoils, and pries his hands off of her, eyes searching for any damage he may have caused. Her eyes are wide, and she’s looking at him expectantly, like he’s supposed to say something, but neither of them know what. His neck tingles. He leans in, some invisible hand pushing him to crane his head upwards and towards her.

He watches as she leans down, mimicking him, as something seems to stir in the air between them. He isn’t sure what it is, but it’s familiar, and he’s starting to hate this feeling. Everything about her is familiar, everything about their encounters is familiar, and like he’s been lost his entire life but hadn’t been found until she moved in next door. They’re nearly touching, when her phone buzzes in her pocket.

She’s pulled from the moment quickly, and before he can stop her, she’s moving away. Her hands are gone, leaving just the embers to smolder on his skin. He wants to reach out and pull her back, to never let her leave his apartment again, because she’s the only thing in it that feels alive and real. She’s talking on the phone, but he isn’t listening to her words. He’s just reaching for her, reaching but she’s moving further away.

“Sorry, Josh. Mike is downstairs, and I have to let him in,” She’s apologizing, but her feet don’t bring her closer. He tries to get to her, but his legs won’t move. He feels his head listlessly nod. She’s always leaving; right when something is about to happen. “I have a few sessions for the project tomorrow, if you want to come over,” She’s at the door, talking as she walks further away. “You’re always welcome over, Josh, I’m just across the hallway if you need me.”

He just lulls his head to the side, barely even full comprehending what she’s saying. His mind is full of white noise, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t focus on her. She’s too far away; he wants her back. _‘Come back,’_ He whispers to himself and the walls.

“Goodbye Josh,”

“Goodbye.”

And his door clicks shut.

 

~ ~ ~

Sam

~ ~ ~

She’s moving things around with Mike, barely even paying attention to the conversation he’s carrying on by himself. Every now and then she’d nod, or give some indication that she’s at least half there, but she keeps finding herself looking at her door. Her mind is constantly being pulled through that blue door, and back to Josh. She can’t help how her cheeks color when she remembers how his fingers had felt against her skin. How her cheek fit in the curve of his palm so perfectly. How he melted against her when she pulled him in for a hug. How everything about those moments, in their simple intimacy, had felt right.

“Sammy,” Mike’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts and she catches him looking at her oddly.

“Sorry Mike, I’m a little distracted. Can we finish this in the morning?” She sets her tripod down, not wanting to shuffle anything around anymore. She felt tired.

He shrugs a shoulder, content to stop working, and sets the heavy canvass background aside. “Sure, we can do all the grunt work after some shut eye,” He takes a few steps towards her, and Sam isn’t sure why she recoils a little, but she does.

His hands find her cheeks, but the once familiar gesture now feels alien and wrong. She meets his eyes and half expects to find Josh looking down at her, and her heart nearly breaks when she finds herself disappointed that it’s Mike instead. She tries to smile for him, but it’s forced, and he knows it. It shows in his eyes, he’s always been bad at hiding his emotions.

He kisses her, and she can’t help the guilty sear of the mark on her side.


	8. Kick Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He never really considered himself a brave person, especially as his demons got stronger and the nights got darker. There’s a funny thing about bravery, however: it always happens when you least expect it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Everything has been rough with me lately, but I'm still trucking! Please feel free to shoot me comments, concerns, suggestions, or anything, over at my tumblr: http://capt-j.tumblr.com/

 

Josh sat uncomfortably straight on his couch, eyes glued to the computer screen before him. Sleep had eluded him, so after fitfully tossing and turning until the sun began to rise, he decided to busy his mind with something. After four different movie reviews and a few cups of coffee later, he ran out of things to do. In his attempt to continue to occupy his mind, he ended up going through Sam’s website again. Every picture was beautiful, done with just the right amount of light to create the perfect mood, every person brought their own unique style and personality to the shot, every soul mark was displayed with clarity and simplicity that it was awe-inspiring: how could he possibly fit in amongst these people? Her words still played on constant repeat in his mind, _“It would look perfect, it would look perfect, it would look perfect, it would look perfect,”_ Until it turned into nothing but white noise masquerading as her voice.

" _She can’t photograph it. If she photographs it, then it’ll be there for everyone to see, and if everyone can see it, then it isn’t mine anymore.”_ He reasoned in his mind.

" _And by the same token, Josh, no one will see it, and you’ll always be alone.”_ Came a soft little reply.

 _“Alone like you deserve. You’re nothing, Joshua. No one would want you.”_ Hissed the snake voice.

" _That’s not true. Chris likes me. Hannah and Beth like me – “_ Josh tried to reason.

The snake voice snapped back harshly _, “And where are they, Josh? You pushed your beloved sisters away because you were stubborn and didn’t want their help. You pushed your family away because you were afraid of being the family fuck up! And now look where it’s gotten you!”_

Josh gripped his head tightly on both sides and hunched over his knees awkwardly. The voices were getting louder and he knew it was because his medication was wearing off. He desperately looked at the time on his laptop: 11:30 – holy shit he’s been staring at her web page for how long? – he still had two more hours until his prescribed time to take his next dose. He wasn’t sure if he could last that long. _“Beth and Hannah love me though,”_ He feebly responded.

 _“ **/Love/** you? HAH! Don’t make me fucking laugh, Joshua. You’re noting to them; you’re just the family fuck up. That’s why you’ve living in this shithole instead of with your ‘loving family.’”_ The voice mocked him more, its malicious tongue slicing wounds into his skin he wasn’t prepared to mend.

" _Sam likes me,”_ He responded weakly, his mind feebly trying to grasp any sense of real human connection he truthfully may have. If she didn’t like him, why would she have whispered those two sacred words that were inked on the nape of his neck? If she didn’t like him, why would she have come to his place and ordered pizza and sat on his couch while entertaining his rants about movie plots? She had to like him, right? This was a real connection, something tangible and real and true --- right?

The snake voice started to hiss but before any vile words could slip past its forked tongue, another voice overwhelmed it. It was a softer voice, a familiar voice, almost like Sam’s voice, but not quite. There was a different lit to it, something akin to that of an old friend, or an almost lover, but it was familiar and comforting and it felt right.

" _Come on Josh, when did you get to be such a scardie cat?”_

 _“It isn’t that, it’s just that…I don’t know…”_ He paused mid thought awkwardly, not really knowing what to call this voice, so he gave it the first one that came to mind, _“I don’t know what to do, Sammy.”_ He was surprised to find that ‘Sammy’ felt right.

_“And since when has the great, Joshua Washington, ever been afraid of a girl?”_

He chuckled despite himself, and shook his head. He liked this voice, it reminded him so much of Sam, with its quick wit and dry humor. _“Never. You know that Sammy. You know I’m a lean, mean, girl woo-ing machine.”_

The rational part of his brain was concerned: the voices were only ever this vivid when he was on his old medication. Ever since he’d gotten his new medication the voices were quieter: always there, but quieter. Maybe he was relapsing. Maybe his mind was finally just shutting down after three nights of no sleep. Maybe he finally just lost it all.

The rest of him felt comforted by this new voice. It was soothing, like hot tea with honey and lemon on a cold winter night. It was snarky, like a good back and forth between well-written protagonists in a film. It felt right, like when he was sitting next to Sam on his crappy couch talking about movies. It felt right like Sam felt right.

" _Then be brave, Josh. Don’t be afraid.”_

It whispered softly, its soft voice prodded him to stand, and before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet. His chest was heaving, breathing heavy as he stared wildly at his door. The voices were all clamoring loudly now, the noise turning into a hurricane of mutters and mumbles and rage but he didn’t pay any attention to them. He just knew that he had to go through that door and something would change; something would happen. What that could possibly be, he had absolutely no idea, but it would be something. He just had to be brave.

The longer he waited, the stronger his insecurities got. His hands shook, his knees trembled, and he was sure that his lip quivered as he just stared at his door, expecting it to just materialize before him without him having to actually move. _“You have to walk, Josh. You have to walk.”_ He told himself over and over again, but his legs were like lead. _“You have to walk,”_ He told himself a little more seriously. _“You have to walk or else you won’t see her.”_

On impulse his legs move, and he’s at the door. He threw it open and then stepped out, the light of the hallway almost jarring from his dark room. He blinked it away and there is her door. It’s right there, just a step and a half away and all he has to do is just knock. Just knock. He’s gotten this far – so knock.

He does. He knocks and he doesn’t know what to do after it. So he just stands there, awkwardly, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, and his shoulders hunched over like he doesn’t fit in the space he’s taken up. Seconds pass like centuries, and then minutes go by like eternities, and when he’s sure that she isn’t going to answer he turns to leave, but the door swings wide open. “Hello?” It’s her voice and it makes his heart stop. “Josh?” She prompts, and he almost retreats back into his sanctuary.

 _“Be brave,”_ The little voice whispers again, and for once Josh decides that he’s at least gotten this far.

He turns around and tries to smile, but it feels forced, like it doesn’t sit right on his face. She’s in her doorway, clad in professional but comfortable attire, and her hair is tossed up in a bun to keep it out of her face. She smiles and it’s radiant like the sun, so much so that it nearly blinds him. “Hey,” He starts lamely. “I uh –“ a pause; he clears his throat; another pause. “You have time for a, uh, a, d-drop in?” He’s trying to be nonchalant but it isn’t really working, his nerves have frayed his entire being to shreds.

Her smile softens and she steps aside, “Of course I have time, Josh. Come on in, I was actually just finishing up.”

 

~ ~ ~

Sam

~ ~ ~

 

He looks hilarious, at least as far as Sam is concerned. He’s wearing the exact same clothes he wore last night, except for his socks, which were mismatched the night before, but matched now. Still, she won’t deny how her heart flutters a little at seeing him so unexpectedly. He looks like a sad, confused puppy. How could she not take him in? “Come on, come on.” She ushers, and he stiffly walks past her.

She watches as he takes in his surroundings like every single thing is fascinating to him. He’s immediately drawn to the framed photographs on her wall, and he gets a little too close to see them. A smile perks at his lips, and she mimics it. He’s just so damn cute. “You did these?” He asks, and she nods. “They’re really good.”

She laughs and walks over to stand next to him, admiring the few pictures she’d always really been proud of. They were all of animals, most of which were common around this crowded city. “Thank you, Josh. That really means a lot.” Sam sets a hand on his elbow out of reflex and he jumps a little in surprise. She recoils her hand quickly and tries to defuse him with a smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I just,” He works the words on his tongue for a moment, “I wasn’t expect it, that’s all.”

She smiles and then nods, “Okay, well, did you want to get your photograph, my dear Joshua?”

That mischievous little glint from their little night in returned to his eyes, and she wouldn’t ever admit to how it made her stomach flip. He straightened a little, and crossed his arms in that smug way she adored. Déjà vu smacked Sam hard in the head for a moment as she just took him in: he looked so confident, like some kind of frat jock she’d met on her college campus who knew he could get anyone he wanted and probably did. Like the cool older brother who always hosted parties for his friends and younger siblings when they were in High School – she knew one of those didn’t she? She couldn’t remember.

“Well, I mean I’m not just going to let /any ol’/ photographer just snap my picture willy-nilly. I mean, those things suck your souls out, you know.” He gently tapped the camera dangling around her neck. “And I rather like my soul, Sam.”

She laughed and punched him in the arm lightly, “Hardy har-har. I’ll have you know, I am the best damn photographer on this street.” She even flexed an arm for emphasis. She caught the impressed look that flashed by Josh’s eyes as the muscles pushed against the fabric of her blouse.

“I don’t know about that, Sam, you hardly stand to comparison.” He smiled a cheeky little grin at his height joke. She punched him in the arm again.

“Oh ha-ha. You’re a regular Jim Carrey,” The sarcasm was so thick it dripped off her words like venom on a cobra’s fangs. She moved around him and then went over to her backdrop, sure hands raising her lights and reflectors.

“My comedy is a lot more subtler than Jim Carrey’s, you know,” He said after a moment and Sam looked up and caught him easing himself gently on the arm of her love seat. He looked so disheveled it was almost adorable, the mirage was broken by the way his baggy clothes hung off of him.

“Just like the rest of you?” She asked with a bit of a smirk, and angled the reflector a little better. “Come here for me Josh,” She waved him over without really even looking up from her task.

However, when he didn’t come closer, she looked up and caught him fiddling with the end of his shirt. He was picking at a few loose ends and chewing on his lip, leg shaking a little as he stared at his feet. “Are you okay?” She almost walked towards him, but his quick nod stopped her.

“Do you still need my shirt off?”

The question caught her off guard so hard that Sam felt her mouth gape open. She blinked a few times to jar her jumbled thoughts around, and then straightened. She had to be diplomatic about this; this wasn’t just some ordinary thing that Josh was used to doing, especially with how he reacted to her request last night. She worked the sentence on her tongue before slowly letting it slip past her lips: “I would prefer it, but if you really aren’t comfortable, Josh, it’s—“

“No, it’s okay, I can do this.” He stood up and took in a deep breath, hands trembling as he slowly started to lift his shirt, and then in a quick motion he yanked it right off his head. Sam mused how it seemed like he rationalized it like a Band-Aid, if you rip it off the pain won’t be so bad right?

She audibly gasped once the baggy long sleeve shirt was off and clutched tight in his hands. As much as she liked to joke about Josh looking like a skeleton, she hadn’t even begun to realize how right she had been. His skin was stretched taunt over his bones, which jutted out at jarring angles and cast his pale skin in an array of shadows. He looked like he didn’t fit in his own skin, like the skin he was wearing should be taunt and tight and dead like the mummified flesh she’d seen on Netflix documentaries on mummies. The scar around his mouth seemed even more obvious now that she’d seen the rest of him; it looked like he’d opened his jaw so wide that the skin on the right side of his face simply tore itself asunder. Sam felt a shiver roll up her spine, as she remembered a dark mine shaft, and inhuman screeches in the darkness.

Her eyes then caught the array of scars that slashed their way in uneven patterns along the insides of his arms. Some were old, the skin puffed up and pink from abuse long forgotten to time. There were ones that looked scabbed over, probably a few weeks old, only to degrade into fresh ones: still angry and red from their making. “Oh Josh,” She started, her feet taking her to him without her thinking. “Oh God, Josh,” He flinched away when her hands rose to grip his arm, but she didn’t pull away. “Jesus, what –“

He cut her off, “Sometimes this happens to me, Sam, it’s okay. Sometimes this just happens.”

“This isn’t something that /just happens/! Jesus Josh, look at you…” She kept his arms from folding in around himself, so she could see the full extent of his abuse. It was horrifying, it was saddening, it made parts of her heart ache she didn’t think could ache. It was as if she were looking at the chronic behavior of her beloved friend or lover, who had been off the blade only to relapse back onto it.

He shrugged softly, eyes looking away from her. “Sometimes, it’s hard, you know?”

She nodded in a knowing way, after all she’d seen his medication and a quick Google search later revealed them to be antidepressants, and antipsychotic drugs. She was pleased to know that he was at least receiving medical help for his illnesses, but what stood before her wasn’t something that exactly inspired hope in her.

“I know, Josh, I know.” She responds softly, “Ya’know, sometimes my anxiety gets so bad, I have to stay inside.” She looks away from him, having picked a spot on the wall to stare at. “Sometimes it just gets rough. I know.” She ran her thumbs softly over the freshly scabbed over slashes on the insides of his forearms.

Sam felt his hands set themselves on her hips, and without before she could react, he pulled her in close. She blinked a few times in surprise, but didn’t push him away; instead she just rested her head softly on his chest. His heart beat loudly and quickly, which only prompted Sam to press in tighter. She felt the strong urge to lay a few butterfly kisses on the exposed skin of his chest, simply because it felt like the right thing to do. Like she’d done that a thousand times before, and would do it a thousand times again. “It’s okay, Josh,” she whispered, “You’re okay.” She squeezed his waist, palms pressing flat to the skin of his back.

“Thank you,” He whispered back, thumbs rubbing against her hips in that familiar way she’d always found occurred between lovers past and present. She found that it somehow felt right with Josh.

“You’re welcome.” She smiled up at him, and for a moment the world stopped. He looked vulnerable, like he were baring the very essence of his soul to her in a way no one else had ever seen. His eyes, which were such an astounding color of blue-grey that it made her breath hitch in her throat. Sam watched as a tiny little smile snuck its way onto his lips and then he slowly began to lean down. Her heartbeat skyrocketed, and her heart leapt into her throat and sank to the earth at the same time. Was he going in for a kiss? She would be lying if she hadn’t wondered what his lips felt like against hers. She started to close her eyes in anticipation, only to have him press his forehead against hers.

Despite the sudden shift in mood, Sam found herself oddly content with this change. This felt more intimate, more meaningful than a kiss. This felt more like them. “Come on,” she urged softly, “Let’s get you photographed and then I was going to make lunch, do you want to stay?”

He nodded and perked up just a little, that familiar spark easing its way back into his eyes. “Yeah, but are we going to have more vegan crap?”

She rolled her eyes and snapped a few photo’s of the blank background to check her exposure. “You seemed to like the pizza last night, so I highly doubt you could call it ‘crap.’ In fact, I’m a little offended.”

She felt his presence before she could see it, the shadow of his lanky frame looming over her. “You can’t exactly expect a guy to tell the difference when he’s starving, now can you?” She rolled her eyes again, which prompted his quick response, “You know if you keep rolling your eyes they’ll fall right out of your head, Sam.”

She turned around to swat him in the chest; “I’ll stop rolling my eyes when you stop being ridiculous! Now, will you please pose?”

She motioned where she wanted him to stand, but when he set himself up and looked stoic and awkwardly stiff, she smirked. “Okay, hold on Josh, hold on.” She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from giggling at him. “Shake out your shoulders, and take in a deep breath. You look awkward.”

He blanched a bit, doubt flashing through his eyes, but before Sam could say anything he did as she said. He shook out his shoulders and his wrists, trying to loosen up his body. “How’s this Sam? Loose enough for you?” His movements got a little more exaggerated, his wrists shaking out and his leg kicking as he made the most ridiculous poses. That mischievous look came back, the one that she secretly loved, as he moved his entire body now.

She chuckled a little, “Okay, okay. You’re fine, Josh.” She waved her hands to stop his nonsense and then gently takes his arm. “Come here,” She gently guided him to where she wanted him to stand and took a moment to look at him. She set a hand to her chin in thought, “Turn around, and then set your hands in your pockets, and look over your shoulder at me,”

He followed her instructions to the letter and when he glanced over his shoulder, Sam was almost knocked breathless. He looked sheepish, shy, like he was nervous to be showing such a sacred part of his being. The letters, stoic and black on his olive skin, stared at her with such graceful simplicity, that she almost didn’t want to snap the picture. _‘Thank you.’_ Just two words, like the two inked on her side, and the night they met replayed over, and over again in Sam’s head. She’d whispered those words to him, and he’d whispered hers. A shame he’d never know it though.

Sam was happy with Mike, right? She was content with the charade she was living, and didn’t want it to end anytime soon, right? She didn’t want to dwell on it. So instead, she lifted up the camera and leveled Josh in the field of vision. “On three, smile,” She instructed, but when she counted to three, and snapped the picture, he didn’t smile.

Somehow, she found that that was better.


	9. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's cold, thats all she can really remember. It's cold, and the beast is hot on her heels. Maybe if she runs a little faster, she can somehow escape it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whop, there it is. 
> 
> Enjoy. 
> 
> Nightmares are hard to write. 
> 
> Also plot?

~ ~ ~

 

_Her heart is pounding. The sound drowns out everything as she runs through the darkness that surrounds her. The old mine barely has any electricity, the sparking lights popping overhead as she darts down another tunnel. Inhuman screeches echo off the slimy walls, and the sound makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She shivers, feeling it crawl up her spine as nails scrap on the walls behind her. She runs faster._

_She can hear the scraping of claws on the hard rock walls, and before she even knows what she’s doing, she takes a hard left only to run straight into a dead end._

_“Shit!” She hisses loudly and looks up, the cold yellow moon shining ominously above her. “Shit, shit, shit!” She starts to climb. Her legs burn from the effort of running and now climbing, her knees shake as she clings to the rock face for dear life. Her hands slip and she cuts herself on the jagged rocks, which jut from the slippery mountain face like thorns from a rose. She hisses loudly in pain and clutches her wounded digits to her chest, “Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” She was never one for swearing, but this is a desperate situation, for God’s sake._

_Its screeches echo off the walls, which causes a feeble whine to escape her throat as she tries to climb faster. Yet no matter what she does, or how quickly she tries to ascend the mine, it feels as though a weight is attached to her ankles. She simply can’t move fast enough. Her palms begin to sweat as her heart beats like a war drum in her chest. She reaches for an outcrop of rocks, but it is just barely out of reach. “You have to move!” She hisses at her wobbling legs, and in a desperate last-ditch effort to get away, she jumps for the outcropping._

_She slips._

_A strangled cry erupts from her throat as she slides down the rock face and lands in a heap on the cold, unforgiving ground. Her head throbs, and swims as she tries to get her bearings. Her eyes barely manage to focus before it was right in front of her._

_She half expects the same beast that continues to haunt her dreams to be there, with it’s thin face, skeletal body, bald head, and ragged looking loin cloth. Instead, she was met was something new, but just as equally frightening in its twisted malformation._

_Pale, milky eyes stare at her with a look so dead and cold she can feel her blood freeze. Jagged teeth jut out of the right side of its gaping maw at hard angles; pieces of flesh still dangle grotesquely from where the skin was torn asunder. Fresh blood dripped from thin purple lips, and rancid, rot filled breath washes over her as it leans in close. A ragged looking set of overalls, saturated with dried blood, hung loosely on the emaciated frame that stood before her. What was once a full head of hair now began to bald in patches, leaving scabs where the strands had been forcefully pulled out by rough hands. Finally, what she could imagine was a once handsome face, now stared at her with a hunger she’d seen only in pictures of impoverished youth in far away countries._

_Fear grips her heart tighter than she’s ever experienced in these night terrors before. This wasn’t the beast she’d grown so accustomed to facing in her dreams. No this thing was different. It was different in the worst of ways: it was familiar. Hot tears roll down her cheeks as she takes in the monstrosity before her. It is familiar; all the features she’d once come to care for and love are now malformed and twisted into such a disgusting and mangled form it physically hurts her._

_Without thinking, she reaches for the beast, unable to help herself as she whispers it’s name, “Josh..?”_

_Cold, dead eyes focus on her, and with a blood-curdling screech that sounded so painfully like his voice, it lunged at her._

She awoke screaming.

~ ~ ~

 

"Why don’t you tell me more about this nightmare, Samantha?”

 

Sam sat numbly in the comfortable chair on the other side of Dr. Hill’s desk. She had been staring at the same painting in his office for an unknown amount of time, mind lost to the vivid memories of her frightening night terror. She cleared her throat a little and sat up a bit straighter, “It was the same one as I always have: running through the mine, trying to get away from…from whatever is chasing me.”

Dr. Hill jotted that down on his notebook, head nodding a little as he hummed in the back of his throat. “And what, exactly, is chasing you?”

She doesn’t even know where to begin. How can she possibly describe the demon that raked its claws along the soft tissue of her mind? She tried as best she could, “Well, this time it wasn’t the same thing. It was something different. Or well, someone different.”

That seemed to get Dr. Hill’s attention. He opened up the little manila folder he had as Sam’s record and flipped through it idly. “I thought that the nightmare was always the same?” He looked up at her with a raised brow.

"It usually is, yeah. But this time…” She paused and chewed on her lip, “This time it was different.”

Dr. Hill grabbed another piece of paper and uncapped his favorite pen. “Okay, and how was it different?”

Sam hunched herself a little in the chair, arms wraped tight around her stomach as she swallowed deeply. “Well, it started out the same: I’m running. It’s dark and I’m in a mine of some kind, like a coal mind or something, and the lights are shitty but I’m running. I’m afraid and so I’m running, and usually I end up getting stuck, so I have to climb.” She rambled off as many details as her mind could conjure up, but truth be told she’s so haggard from a night of no sleep that it’s hard to concentrate.

He flipped through her file again, “Is it the same mine you accidently fell into on that ski trip?”

Sam shrugs a little, “Probably? I don’t -- I don’t really remember that accident all that well.”

He writes that down on her file and then gives a sympathetic nod, “Sometimes we repress memories of a traumatic event to help us cope. Do you remember anything at all about that day?”

Sam thinks about it for a moment, trying to remember everything she possibly can, but all of it is just so fuzzy. “I remember that my friends and I were going to head up to this resort – Blackwood Pines, or something. It’s owned by some rich family, who’s kids were friends of the kids I was going with.” She rubs the back of her neck for a moment, that familiar tight feeling settling in her chest. “So we all flew out to Alberta and got on the mountain, and I remember on the lift I could see all these blockings where we couldn’t go. I remember thinking that was weird, because why would there be so many freaking blocks on a ski resort?”

Dr. Hill just keeps writing, his deft hands missing none of the details. Sam keeps talking because she’s stuck on the thought and the words just keep flowing. “And so when I got off the lift and I started to go down, everything was normal, and I remember I was having a great time: I’d only ever gone snowboarding a few times before – my dad used to take me, you see.” She clarified for no reason other than because she could. She kept talking, “But at some point I accidently got off the right path, because I wanted to see what I could do with the trees and do a tree run: that’s when I fell into the shaft.”

"And what happened after that?” Dr. Hill gently prompted, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose so he can see what he’s writing.

Sam bit the inside of her lip and rubbed at her arms lightly, “I…I really don’t remember. I was lost and scared and I kept yelling up at the hole where I’d fallen in.” Her heart was beating a little faster now, and the tightness in her chest only grew as she dug deep into the recesses of her mind to grasp these memories.

"How long were you down there?” Dr. Hill asked, his hands flipping through her file once again and scanning what he’d previously written.

"Just a couple of hours. My friends were real worried when I didn’t make it off the path around the same time they did.” She could vividly remember the cold, and the rancid smell of death and mold, which hung in the air like a fog. “I wasn’t sure if I should try to find my own way out, or stay put. I remember I debated on it a lot.” Sam continued to rub at her arms in a soothing way, as if the action would somehow bring her comfort, and peace; it didn’t.

"And what did you end up doing?” As much as Sam loved Dr. Hill, he had a damn good way of getting information out of people. He always asked the right questions at the right time to get you to spill your guts.

"I ended up looking around where I’d fallen in, but I didn’t really go all that far because it was dark, and I ended up running into a lake, or something -- there was water I remember that.” Sam felt her leg bounce up and down as she recalled the freezing water that she’d accidently stepped into during her exploration. “And that’s when I heard it.”

Dr. Hill raised a curious eyebrow. “Hear what, Samantha?”

She pulled in on herself a bit, arms encircling her tighter, “It: the thing that chases me. It has this – this scream. It’s awful, just absolutely awful. It sounds human, but not, like it’s some kind of…well…” She struggled to think of the right way to describe it. “Like it’s human, but twisted and gnarled into something disgusting and horrifying. It sounds tortured.”

He wrote all of that down diligently. “Okay, but did you ever end up seeing the thing that made that noise in the mine?”

Sam shook her head, “No, I stayed in the part of the mine that had light, where I’d fallen in, and managed to climb up enough to get Ski Patrol to help me up.”

Dr. Hill rubbed his chin in thought, “So you never saw the thing in the mines, but you know that whatever is in your dreams is the same thing?”

Sam nodded vigorously, “Oh yeah. It has to be. They make the exact same sound, nothing on earth could reproduce that sound. There is no way that whatever is in that mine, isn’t the thing in my nightmares. They have to be the same thing.”

Dr. Hill wrote something down and then flipped a few pages in her file before changing the subject, “Okay. So this thing chases you, but you said that this time, in this nightmare, it was ‘someone’ different. How did you know it was different?”

Sam shrugged a shoulder, “Usually it’s the same thing that always catches up to me. It’s tall, with pale – almost blue really – skin, and it has this bald head and jagged teeth. It’s huge, and I mean huge, like over seven feet tall, with long, lanky, skeletal arms and legs. It’s awful,” She hugs herself a little tighter. “But this one, this one was different. He wasn’t as tall, and he still looked human. I don’t know how to explain, but it were as if there were parts of him that still looked /right/. He had hair, but it was falling out, and he still had pretty human looking features: he hadn’t decayed as badly as the regular one.”

"Decay? What do you mean decay?” Dr. Hill asked for clarification.

"It looks dead. Whatever chases me honestly looks dead, like it’s this emaciated, skeletal, dead thing. The new one though, he didn’t look as bad, like he hadn’t been down there long enough to fully turn, or whatever it is that happens to those things.” The image of the creature, so familiar in some grotesque way, sat in high definition in her mind’s eye.

"This new one, you keep calling it a ‘he.’ How do you know its gender? The regular one is genderless, isn’t it?”

Sam blinked at her therapist for a moment; bewildered as she thought back to everything she’s said the past few moments. She had assigned it a gender, and she really wasn’t sure why. “Yeah, the regular one doesn’t look like it has a gender but…but this one was just –“ She bit her lip and sighed through the nose, “It reminded me of my neighbor, Josh.”

Now Dr. Hill was /very/ interested in what she had to say. He set his little manila folder down on the desk top, and set his pen aside as well. He then slowly repositioned himself from the relaxed position, to now leaning over his desk, hands folded on the surface. “And, why does it remind you of your neighbor?”

Sam looked away from Dr. Hill and focused again on the wall nearby. “It looks just like him, with the olive skin, and the dark, curly hair. It has his same facial features, with the sharp jaw line, and the overall shape of his face.” She looks over to catch Dr. Hill in a look, “The thing that was in my nightmare? It had teeth that only came out of one side of its mouth, which looked like it was ripped open. Josh has a scar on his face, you see, and it’s in the same spot. I swear it looks like it could have been caused the same way.”

Dr. Hill sat back and grabbed the manila folder and his pen. He wrote that down and then got up. He meandered over to his file cabnit, and opened up one of the bottom drawers. He yanked out another manila folder and opened it up. As he scanned the pages, he spoke: “Is there anything else about this…monster, that reminds you of your neighbor?”

Sam shrugged, face steeling over. “He just…he just kind of looks like it. Except Josh is alive and he doesn’t have the same milky, dead eyes. I don’t know, Dr. Hill. Why am I having such awful dreams…?”

The old therapist didn’t really seem to have an answer, or at least he gave no indication that he had one. Instead, he just leaned back in his chair and capped his favorite pen. “Sometimes we repress memories of a traumatic event, and when we sleep, the mind wanders into those memories.”

A pause as he weighed the options carefully, his head subtly moving from side to side, leaving Sam to watch with anticipation. “Sometimes we have to confront our fears, and work through them, for these nightmares to stop.”

Sam chewed on the inside of her lip, “I don’t know if I can confront this thing, Dr. Hill. I don’t even know what this /thing/ is!” She was getting exasperated and taking it out on the wrong person.

True to form, Dr. Hill just smiled. “Well, why don’t we take it one step at a time? Lets start with Joshua, hmm?” He uncaps his pen and leans forward.

“What about Josh?” She questions.

“Well, why don’t we try to figure out why there was this sudden change in your dreams, and how Josh plays in?”

Sam looked at her therapist incredulously but figured that the old adage of “nothing given is nothing gained” had a ring of truth to it. Right as she opened her mouth to start, the large grandfather clock in the corner, rung the hour.

It startled the two of them so much they both gave a little jump. Dr. Hill chuckled his wryly and then got up with a smile. “Looks like our time is up however, so we’ll pick this up next time, hmm?”

Sam fumbled to her feet and struggled with her bag and the camera about her neck. She gave a little smile and nod as she passed by Dr. Hill towards the front lobby.

“Oh! Samantha?”

She stopped and looked back at Dr. Hill, only to catch a concerned look on his face. “Be careful, with those dreams and all. If they keep changing, we’ll reevaluate your medication.” A pause, “And do be mindful of Joshua, especially if his presence in your dream continues.”

Sam really didn’t know how to take that, so she just nodded and trudged her way out into the rainy New York winter.

 

~ ~ ~

 

It took her about an hour to get back to her apartment, and by that time she was thoroughly soaked to the bone. She silently thanked the Gods for the water proof case she’d bought for her camera for days just like this one, or else this would have been a whole other level of shitty.

As she approached the stoop, she was surprised to find Josh there, taking a few long drags from a half burnt cigarette. A smile tugged on her lips as she took him in again, loving how twice now she’s found him in this little picturesque spot. He looked adorable in that hoodie, which was clearly a size too big, but with the way it covered most of his face when the hood was up, she had a feeling that was the point.

He took another long drag, letting the cigarette dangle from his lips as he inhaled deeply. Sam smiled despite herself, because once again he was completely unaware of her presence. She let him smoke for just a couple more drags before closing the distance.

“Hey Josh.” She greeted casually.

He looked up at her and the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, “Hey Sam,” He flicked the bud of his cigarette away and onto the curb. “You look terrible.” His comment was light hearted, and didn’t cut in the slightest -- in fact, it made Sam smile.

“I was going for a watered down dog look, think I managed?” She spun around, letting the droplets that hung off the edge of her skirt spray Josh on the stoop.

He raises his hands up in mock defense. “Hey! Hey! Shake somewhere else fido!” He sounded happier today Sam noted.

“Maybe if you weren’t sitting outside killing yourself, I wouldn’t be this soaking.” She countered easily.

Josh shrugged, “I like to think that smoking is classy suicide.”

She pushed his shoulder, “Come on, don’t talk like that. Who would I spend my free nights with if you were off coughing to death?”

He just shrugged, “Some other fellow, who’s only half as witty, and pretty as I am. You’d really be downgrading, Sammy, and I’m not even joking.”

Sam felt her smiles often at the affectionate pet name, which was one she hadn’t heard since she was small. “Well, come on then pretty boy, let’s go inside. It’s raining.”

As Sam went to walk in, she was surprised to find Josh’s hand gripped hers suddenly. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “Stay a little longer with me? The rain feels nice.” He was being cryptic, but Sam wasn’t really feeling the rainbows and sunshine she usually does.

“Okay.” Slowly she ceded the notion to go inside to him, and eased herself down on the stoop beside her neighbor. They sat in quiet existence next to each other, listening to the raindrops hit the pavement.

Sam found that she rather liked this.


	10. Rain Drops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things don't always go as planned

Josh

~ ~ ~

They sit outside for a little while longer, just enjoying each other’s company and the sound of the rain on the pavement. While normally, Josh would be content to just share this moment with Sam, he can’t help but focus on the heat of their palms, which still rest snuggly against one another.

He had half expected her to pull her hand away when she agreed to sit with him, but to his surprise she instead wrapped her fingers a little tighter around his and joined him on the stoop. She watched the cars go by with a contented look on her face, and no matter how many times he tried to look away, Josh always found himself stealing glances at her from the corner of his eyes.

“You look tired,” He mused after a few moments of silence.

She snorted a little in amusement, like he had brought up some inside joke between them, and gave a shrug. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

A small pause as Josh worked the words around on his tongue, only to douse them with cigarette smoke. He breathed the question out along with the drag, “Want to talk about it?”

She squeezed his hand and shook her head, “Maybe another time.”

He nodded, knowing when someone doesn’t want to talk about his or her demons. He’s used that tone of all the time. So he let it sit, “Okay.”

Sam shrugged and then looked at him, “Are you done with your cigarette, Smokey? I don’t want to catch a cold, you know.”

A ghost of a smile crept over his lips as he nodded. “Yeah, I’m done.” He sucked in one final drag, and then flicked the bud into the street.

Sam stood first, and put gentle pressure on his arm to beckon him to stand as well. Josh couldn’t help but wonder if she didn’t want to let go of his hand just yet; he didn’t mind either way. “Come on,” She prompted and when he was on his feet, she led them to the door.

They walked in together silently, hands still pressed firmly palm to palm, and that was all Josh could focus on. He kind of liked how the warmth of her hand eased its way up his arm like a shiver. He also couldn’t help but muse at how their hands seemed to fit so perfectly together, which made the mark on the nape of his neck tingle.

They made it up to their apartments faster than Josh would care for, and as they reached the apex of the stairs his heart began to race. He didn’t want to lose her hand in his just yet. He didn’t want to lose the soothing way she calmed the voices in his head. He didn’t want to be without her warmth. He didn’t want to be alone.

“Home sweet home,” she mused, legs taking them a little quicker than he wanted. Her hand began to pull away as they approached her door, and out of reflex, Josh squeezed. He felt rough callouses rub against his palm as he kept her hand against his. “What?” She asked, turning back to look at him with confusion and curiosity in her eyes.

Josh blushed and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Nothing. Nothing.” He still didn’t let go of her hand as he tried to come up with some kind of excuse to stay here a little longer. “I just,” A pause, “Your hands felt cold.”

She saw through his lame attempt at an excuse like it was glass. A smile tugged on her lips though and she seemed to cave, “Have you eaten today, Josh?”

He shrugged a shoulder absently. “Nah, but I’ll find something.”

Sam rolled her eyes, “Come on. Go dry yourself off and get into some warm clothes and then come over. I’ll make us something to eat.”

Josh stood by his door contemplating the idea. The offer was tempting, absolutely tempting. He felt his hand twitch a little more as he gave her arm a gentle tug. “Why don’t,” He swallowed, “I can make something?” He offered meekly.

Sam just smiled at him, feet taking her a step closer. “I doubt you have anything vegan in your house, Josh.” Her eyes narrowed a little as she teased him, “Seeing as you’re a heartless meat eater.”

He laughed. The sound was so sudden and foreign that he was almost taken aback. He’d missed laughing. “Yeah, I’m a vicious carnivore, Sam. I thought you knew.”

When had she gotten so close to him? He couldn’t remember. All he knew is that suddenly she was standing in front of him, their chests just a hairs breath away from touching, and their palms still pressed together firmly. She was looking up at him, head craning a little to the side as she gave him that teasing and defiant look. Josh felt his stomach flutter.

She was focused on something that wasn’t his eyes, and if Josh were a romantic, he’d swear she was staring at his lips. She bit hers and he just about melted to the floor. “Vicious, huh?” She questioned, body leaning into that miniscule amount of space that separated them. She was dangerously close and he could feel the electricity bubbling between them. “I don’t believe that.”

When had she started whispering? Josh didn’t care. All he could focus on was the way she craned her head up to look at him, the strong slope of her neck leaving him with just the right angle to see it curve into her collarbone. He swallowed hard. She was so close, damp hair dripping onto his hands. All he’d have to do is lean down and he’d finally get to figure out what he was suddenly so curious about. Was it how her lips tasted? Or perhaps how they felt against his? Did he want to see if she really smelt like rain and sunshine like he thought she did? He just wanted to know. If he leaned in, he’d know whatever it was he wanted to know, right?

“Oh yeah?” He challenged, voice dropping a little in his throat as he leaned his head down just a touch. He swore he could see her pulse quicken from the way her neck heated up.

“Mmhmm,” She murmured, eyelids suddenly heavy. “I think you’re full of shit.” A grin perked up on the side of her mouth. “You’re actually a big softie.”

He chuckled deep in his chest and bent a little more, trying to get a better look at her eyes. He didn’t even care that they were standing this close. “And how do you know that?”

She shrugged, head tilting a little more to look him straight in the eye. “Just a hunch.”

Another chuckle and before Josh knew what he was doing, the little voice in the back of his mind whispered _“be brave,”_ and he leaned in a little more.

His lips were a hairs breath away from hers, so close that he could feel her small breaths tickle the sensitive skin. He let his eyes close shut and sucked in a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge.

“SAM!”

They came out of their trance like a gunshot had been fired. They both bolted upright, Sam like a deer caught in head lights, and Josh like a cat that had been startled. They both focused in on the head of the stairs, where Mike currently stood.

Bewilderment flashed by his face first, and then anger. His face contorted and twisted, jaw set in a hard line as he stomped his way towards the pair.

 “Mike hold on. Mike wait, it isn’t, Mike. Mike stop! Mike!”

Sam’s words fell on deaf ears as he cocked a hand back and landed a solid punch to Josh’s left eye.

Josh fell into a heap on the floor, his feet having staggered him backwards and then getting tangled up in himself. He pressed the butt of his palm to his wounded socket and hissed in pain. “What the fuck man!” He growled.

“Josh!” Sam screeched and quickly rushed to his side, hands gripping his wrists as she tried to inspect the damage.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing with my girlfriend you prick!” Mike snarled back.

“Nothing man! Jesus we were just talking!”

“That didn’t fucking look like talking!”

“Mike relax, it wasn’t what you—“

“Shut up, Sam, I’m dealing with this!”

“Don’t talk to her that way.”

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, asshole. I’ll put you on the fucking ground. Oh wait, I already did!”

“Mike!” Sam got up and grabbed him by the arm and forcefully turned him to look at her. “Stop it! Josh is my neighbor. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He was about to fucking kiss you, Sammy. Don’t fucking act like he wasn’t!” Mike snapped back quickly.

“No he wasn’t Mike! Jesus you’re over reacting!”

“How the fuck am I the one over reacting, Sam!? How in the hell is it ME who’s over reacting?” They were yelling now, not two feet away from each other.

Josh slowly got to his feet, hand still pressed to his black eye as the pain throbbed in his head. He sucked in a hard breath. “Look man, I wasn’t going to kiss her, and I’m sorry if it looked that way. Look I’ll just go home okay?” He was avoiding the problem and they all knew it. “I’ll just go home.”

“Yeah you better fucking go home.” Mike warned, which earned him a hard punch in the arm from Sam.

“You’re making an ass of yourself, Mike.” She hissed and then gave him a rough push, “Go home, Mike. I don’t want to see you tonight.”

Josh turned his back to the quarreling lovers before he could see Sam’s apologetic look. He fumbled with his keys and struggled with the door before finally getting it open. He stepped into the threshold and closed the door without even saying goodbye.

~ ~ ~

Sam

~ ~ ~

Sam heard the door close without even realizing Josh had escaped into his sanctuary. She looked at the door with a frown, and then turned her fury fully back onto Mike. “I can’t fucking believe you.” She hissed lowly.

“Me? You can’t believe me. I can’t believe you, Sam!” He shot back, “He was about to kiss you.”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “No, he wasn’t. Josh isn’t like that!” They were yelling again.

“Oh so what, my eyes were just fucking playing tricks on me Sam?!” Mike bellowed.

“Maybe they were! Jesus, I can’t even look at you.” She turned her back to him. “Go home, Mike. I don’t want to see you.” She repeated.

“Oh, you don’t want to see me. Mrs. High and Mighty doesn’t want to see me. Fine! Fine. I’ll just go home!”

“Good! I can’t even believe you right now!”

“Well then I guess you don’t have to believe me any more at all! Seeing as my fucking eyes are lying!”

“Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“Yes, why do you need me to YELL LOUDER!”

They were in a screaming contest, their voices reverberating off the cheap walls so hard Sam was sure they were rattling.

There were many reasons why Sam loved Mike. He was charming, handsome, well studied, and easily a lot more complicated than he let people see. He’s a softie, with a big soft spot in his heart for dogs and wolves. He’s just as passionate about conservation as she is, and he isn’t all that bad in bed. Despite the things she loved about him, everyone had his or her flaws. Mike had a disastrous temper.

So she watched as he growled in frustration and threw his fist directly into the dry wood wall next to him, putting a hole in a cheap architecture. He snarled hard in pain. “Mike!” Sam protested and stepped towards him, fully intending to nurse his injured hand.

“You don’t want to see me, remember?” He seethed, voice low and calm despite his heaving chest. “So don’t fucking touch me.” He didn’t let her look at it, and simply stomped his way down the hall. He descended the stairs with heavy foot falls, not even bothering to look back.

Sam felt her chest tighten a little. Did they just break up? Sure, Mike and her had their fights before, but nothing like this. This was a whole other level. She couldn’t help but feel it was because she was so attached to her neighbor.

After a moment, Sam decided that there were more important things to worry about at the moment than Mike’s temper. She turned to Josh’s door and gave it a quick knock.

“Josh,” She called through the cheap wood. “Open up. It’s me.” A long pause, “Come on, Mike isn’t here. Please?” She nearly begged. “Come on, I want to make sure your eye is okay.”

There was a long pause, the silence hanging in the air like a dense fog. A minute passed, and then another, and another, which only made Sam’s heart plummet further down into the floor. “Josh?” She called again, a little gentler this time. “Please?”

She heard the latch click but before she could step away from the door it swung open. Josh stood there, eyes red and puffy from crying, his left one swollen and bruised. Sam bit her cheek. “God damn it Josh,” She breathed, “Again with the black eye…”

He gave a halfhearted shrug. “Sometimes this shit happens to me, you know?”

Sam took a step towards him, arms out and ready to hug but to her surprise Josh stepped away. His whole body flinched out of reflex, like she’d shocked him or he was expected her to hit him. The idea made her heart break. “This shouldn’t happen to you Josh. I’m sorry about Mike, he has…he has a pretty bad temper.”

The brunette laughed bitterly. “Yeah, you wouldn’t say.” He looked off to the side, giving Sam a good look at his distinctive mouth scar.

Silence filtered between the two of them for a moment, but that moment felt like an eternity. Sam looked up at him with a frown, searching for some kind of sign that the Josh she just sat out in the rain with was still here in front of her. She couldn’t find him. Instead it was someone else, someone as cold and unforgiving as stone. He was someone who’d just been punched by her boyfriend and someone who’d been hurt just a little too much.

“I promised I’d make you something for dinner,” She tried, wanting to attempt to salvage the night in some way.

Josh just shook his head, “I think I’ll be alright. I’ll find me something here.” He vaguely gestured to the kitchen, which was sparsely furnished.

“Come on, Josh. Please don’t let the day end like this.” Sam wasn’t used to pleading with someone, usually anyone she found interesting enjoyed hanging out with her. She also couldn’t help the squeezing of her chest as the anxiety told her that Josh hated her.

“I’m sorry Sam, but can I take a rain check? I think I want to be alone. Kind of, brood in my own home, you know?” He took a step back from her.

Her heart nearly shattered. Sam was used to this however, no matter how many times she wished she wasn’t, and without skipping a beat she felt herself go delightfully numb to the pain. “Yeah.” She said easily, finding her words stronger than she expected. “Yeah of course.” She stepped towards the door and then through the threshold, feet taking her swiftly to her own home.

“Good night then, Josh.” She said over her shoulder, barely even a glance to the man at the door.

“Yeah. Good night then, Sam.” He replied, voice hollow and broken.

She opened the door and stepped in, hearing Josh’s click before hers did.


	11. Melody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whomp there it is.  
> The song Sam sings is "Ripped Away" by This Wild Life  
> I do not own the song or the lyrics, I just think the song is kick ass and the lyrics really fit this chapter.  
> The comments you guys leave me are what's kept this little fic going. Thank you all for staying with me and letting me know this isn't the giant train wreck I usually think it is. It means a lot to me

~ ~ ~ 

Josh

~ ~ ~ 

 

The next day he hears her knock on his door but he doesn’t answer. He’s glued to his couch, the weight of the alcohol combined with his medication makes his limbs heavy like weights. He wants to move but he can’t, so he sits and listens to her gently knock and call his name. Her voice sounds hoarse, maybe she hadn’t slept well. He feels a little pull on his heart when his mind conjures up the image of her, outside his door, clad in lazy clothes and hair thrown up in a bun, eyes tired and looking for comfort. He let himself entertain the idea for a few more moments, only to realize that she’d stopped knocking. He wonders how long it’s been quiet. The voices remind him that it doesn’t matter. He starts to believe them. 

 

~ ~ 

 

The day after that she knocks again, but he’s too busy in the bathroom to hear it. He’s carving angry slashes into his arms again, finding that the muted pain of the blade drowns out the voices and the emotions that rage around inside him. The little voice pleads for him to stop, to open the door and seek help. It sounds so much like her that he silences it with another hard slash. He’s angry and he isn’t really sure why. His reminder for his medication buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it. 

 

~ ~ 

 

The next day he finds a note slipped under his door when he wanders into the living room in the tender hours of the morning. He picks it up and lets tired eyes scan over it idly. It’s her handwriting, but the paper is watermarked and he isn’t sure if it’s from tears or just stray droplets around her home. It pleads with him to open the door and see her again. It asks if he’s taking his medication, and if he’s eating. It asks about his eye and if it’s healing well. She apologises. She says she misses him. He finds his heart squeezing at the idea of someone caring for his wellbeing. The snake voice snarls about how he’s worthless and always will be. He folds the note and sets it with the others he’s kept, deciding that if he can keep anything of hers, it could at least be the notes. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

A few hours later she knocks again. She knocks a second time, and then a third, only to resort to pounding as he doesn’t answer. Her voice hitches as she calls his name again, and before Josh can stop himself, he’s before his door, hand hovering over the knob. The voices rage in his head, the snake voice berating the little voice for giving him the hope that she’d even care about him in the slightest. The little voice begs him to answer the door, giving the reasoning that they both need this silence to end. The snake voice hollers louder, so when he hears her whisper his name again outside his door, voice tight and stained with tears, he can’t bare to hear her anymore. He gives up and returns to his room, where it’s so dark it consumes him. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

 

The next day he finds himself sweltering in his own home. Having a south facing room is just torture, and no matter what he tries to do his room is either antarctica, or the center of hell and there is little in between. Despite his general want to suffer in the heat, alone in his room, something compels him to open his door to get a cross breeze. Practicality tells him it’s because it’s hot, the little voice reminds him that it’s how he met Sam in the first place. 

As Josh slowly opens his front door, he’s surprised to find that Sam has left her’s open as well. He finds himself stuck in a moment in time, eyes searching for any indication that she still lived across the hall from him. When he hears some rustling, he quickly retreats to the kitchen. 

He tries to act as nonchalant as possible as he wanders around his apartment, painfully aware that if the thought ever occurred to Sam, she could just wander into the room with him. They were just two people, separated by two planks of wood and a small hallway, but to Josh, it felt like leagues. He drowned the thoughts in whiskey laced coffee. 

Before he could think of something to occupy his thoughts, the distinct hum and pop of an amp being plugged into an instrument reaches his ears. He hears a few strums of an acoustic guitar and a lump settles in the back of his throat. He’d forgotten that she played guitar: a  little tidbit he learned when they hacked into Sam’s Facebook all those weeks ago. She strummed a few cords and from the clarity of the sound, Josh mused that she must be in the center of her little living room, which pushed all the sound right into the hallway and into his room. 

He moved to the left side of the door jam, keeping out of sight, and let himself slide down the wall until he was in a sitting position. The rational part of his mind tells Josh that he could just sit and listen for a while: there was no real harm in that right? As he heard her clear her voice and strum a few more times, he regretted never asking her about this particular hobby. After all he had seen the guitar in the corner of her house when he would visit. Maybe this was just as good, if not better. 

He listens as she starts to count, heavy hand thumping against the body of her guitar, then she starts to strum, and then she starts to sing. 

 

_ Was I lyin’ right through my teeth,  _

_ When I said I was trustworthy _

 

Josh smiles a little despite himself, and downs a mouthful of coffee, and when they whiskey burns he decides he’d rather be sober to listen to her. He retreats to the kitchen, but her words reach him anyway: 

 

_ I said I’d never ever live this way _

_ I’m turning into everything I hate _

His fingers tap along with the beat as he pours his next cup, and when he starts to wander back to his spot, he finds his head bobbing along with the rhythm. He smiles, she has a beautiful voice. 

 

_ Well I was reckless with your love _

_ I know I never gave you enough _

 

Nothing is ever permanent however, and Josh finds his smile turning a little more sour as she sings that line, but manages to laugh through the nose. He has no doubt that this song is about Mike. 

 

_ Well is it all slipping away from me _

_ I can’t be anything you want me to be _

_ All, ripped away from me _

_ I can’t be anything you want me to be _

 

As she careened into the chorus, Josh finds himself moving a little more, tapping his fingers a little harder and his whole body getting into the motion of her playing. He’s absolutely  spellbound by her, and he’s across the hall! He wonders why she gave this up, she has talent. 

 

_ My heart is heavy and it keeps me to the ground _

_ My eyes are swollen ‘cause I can’t have you around _

_ All ripped away from me, I can’t be anything you want me to be _

  
  


Josh feels his smile fall as she sings the last few lines of the chorus. Even if this song isn’t for him, even if it is for someone else, he doesn’t like the idea of Sam being so melancholy.  

 

_ I didn’t have the strength to just come clean _

_ Feeling weak and hurt it seems _

_ That I can never look you in the face _

_ Don’t have the spine to go to your place _

 

A familiar tingling sensation blooms over the nape of his neck. He chews on his bottom lip, and dares to peek around the mantle of his door. He finds Sam situated in the living room portion of her home, which just so happens to be smack center in the middle of the doorway if one were to look inwards. She’s sitting on a little stool, guitar perched on her thigh as she plays with her eyes closed. 

 

_ Well I was reckless with your love _

_ I know I never gave you enough _

 

It’s been almost a month since their last conversation. How did he let it come to this? He didn’t really know, but somehow it wound up here. Maybe it was fate that pushed them to this point, or his own shallow self hatred. Perhaps he was afraid that she was something too good for him, so he pushed her aside like he did with his family,  friends, and  sanity. 

 

_ What can I do? What can I say? _

_ After all I pushed you away. _

_ If you ever forgive me now it would be too soon.  _

 

The words jar him out of his thoughts quickly, and for a moment Josh finds himself laughing through the nose. This song was absolutely about Mike, so much it actually made his chest hurt. 

After a repeat of the chorus, and a few other repeated lines, Sam closes the song with a few easy strums, until there is nothing but the idle hum of the amplifier. Josh can hear her sniffle a little, and then shift her weight out of the stool and start to clean up. 

Before he really even has a moment to process what it is he’s doing, Josh finds himself in his doorway, peering across the hall and towards Sam. He leans himself against the door jam, downing a mouthful of coffee to try and wet his suddenly parched throat. 

“I didn’t know you played,” He croaks across the hall, which earns a startled little jump from Sam! She spins around and catches him in a hard stare, body rigid and stiff as she takes him in. He squirms under her gaze, feeling an inch big. “You play really well.” 

He watches as a myriad of emotions cross over her face. First it’s surprise, then anger, then something a little closer to relief. “Thank you Josh,” She calls, feet taking her a little closer to the door. 

He swallows, the voices oddly quiet in the breathless moment as he takes a tiny little step outside his home. “Could you…” A pause as he takes another sip, “play another?” The back of his neck is tingling and he can feel his hands shake. 

She smiles, and his heart nearly melts. “Yeah, but it’s a little sad.” 

He shrugs and offers a small smile of his own, “I like sad.” 

She steps aside, welcoming him into her home. Josh hesitates, only to hear the little voice whisper for him to be brave again. So he closes his door, shuffles across the hall, and crosses the threshold into Sam’s home, and lets the door shut behind him. 

 

~ ~ ~ 

Sam

~ ~ ~ 

 

Sam finds herself lounging on her couch, with Josh fast asleep against her. The soft breaths that escape his slightly parted lips tickle her neck, but she can’t really say she minds: he’s warm after all. Her arms are draped lazily around his shoulders, one hand idly running through thick dark locks. Her heart squeezes a little at the realization that he’s even skinner than she’d imagined, so when he shivers lightly against her side she isn’t all that surprised. She yanks the blanket she keeps on the back of the couch over him, and gently tucks it in around his head, earning a little murmur and a quick shift before he’s settled back into the crook of her neck. 

She tries to remember how they exactly got here, but the memories are fuzzy thanks to the warmth and tingle of her skin. She can remember sitting on her couch, guitar on her thigh as she sings another song from one of her favorite bands. She can remember how he praised her, saying how she had a beautiful voice, and he wanted to hear it again. She remembers putting her guitar down against the side of the couch and reprimanding Josh about locking himself up again. He apologized and looked so sheepish, Sam didn’t have the heart to stay angry with him. She had asked if he had eaten, and he gently shook his head no, so Sam made them dinner, which Josh ate with all the ravenous hunger of a starved coyote. 

He then promptly fell asleep on her couch, and before Sam really knew what she was doing, she was pooling him into her lap and slowly laying down to get them both comfortable. He awoke for a brief moment, only to settle on his side and press himself tightly against Sam. He tangled their legs up and let his arm rest heavy and warm over her waist. She found the whole exchange so adorable that she couldn’t be angry with him for shutting himself away for all those days. 

So Sam resigned to being Josh’s human pillow, her fingers delicately tracing the words inked on the nape of his neck as he rested. She felt a shiver start at her toes and slowly ascend until it crowned at the top of her head. 

His own fingers, thin and calloused, rested right above her own little mark, and for the first time, it finally felt right. 


	12. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She isn’t sure how they exactly got here, they move against each other in a smoky haze, minds fogged over by the release of the tension between them. No matter how loud the voices yell at her to stop, she can’t help but feel like this is what they’ve been building too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! I'm not dead! 
> 
> Thank you all so so so so much for sticking with me through this story. I've been renewed with a full sense of vigor to get this little guy up and going again. After a few rereads, I've put the pieces together in my head again and I'm ready to put this guy to bed in a few more chapters. 
> 
> As always, any and all criticism, compliments, concerns, or questions are welcome and cherished. 
> 
> Thank you all  
> 

~ ~ ~  
Sam  
~ ~ ~ 

She can’t really say how they got here. One moment they were curled up on the couch, warm and content, and the next they were pressed flush against each other, lips needy and hands roaming. She tries to remember who initiated it, and truthfully she can’t pinpoint it to either of them: they both wanted this.

So Sam gave in, allowing those thin fingers to comb through her hair and undo the messy bun at the apex of her scalp. When her hair fell free, an involuntary shiver rocketed up her spine, which must have just edged her eager companion on, because his hands got a little rougher. His lips, chapped and thin, worked against hers in that heated manner that she recalled from high school, where actions were easier than words, so they moved awkwardly, but somehow managed to find something of a rhythm. 

Josh shifted his hips and suddenly he was atop her, chest pressed firmly to hers as his hand cradled the back of her skull to tilt her head and deepen the kiss. Sam’s hands moved on their own, finding the little bit of skin that poked out from his low hanging sweat pants. He jumped like she’d shocked him, and without even thinking about it, Sam was whispering a hushed ‘Sorry,’ against his lips. 

He smiled, that soft smile that she only ever caught once or twice in their brief meetings together, and Sam felt her heart nearly melt. “Don’t be,” he replied, lips brushing hers in that teasing way she hated but loved. “Just surprised me,” 

She took that as an invitation, and let her hands roam higher up his back, fingers tracing the outline of each vertebra as she climbed higher to his shoulder blades. Her heart sank a little the more her hands ascended, knowing that he was so dangerously skinny for probably unhealthy reasons. “Josh,” She frowned, a slight scold to her voice, “You’re skin and bones.” 

He chuckled, low and deep in his throat, head ducking so he can latch his lips onto the pulse of her neck. Sam can’t stop the guttural groan that escapes her throat. “I know,” He mutters against her neck, lips peppering the skin there as he thinks of something to say. “Don’t worry about me.” 

Sam digs a hand into his hair and yanks his head back just hard enough to show him she’s serious. “You’re unhealthy Josh,” She scolds a little more firmly. 

He smiles again, that same soft smile she loves but hates, for reasons she can’t exactly pin point. Her gut tells her it’s because she knows that smile, it’s the smile he gives when he knows he’s caught doing some form of self harm or in a lie, but her mind tells her she couldn’t have possibly known that in their brief interactions with each other. She’s hit with that overwhelming feeling of deja vu again, knowing that she knows these quirks of Josh for reasons she can’t quite explain. “I’m going to worry,” She asserts, eyes stern as she pins him with a look. 

He disarms her with a kiss. It’s a kiss she hasn’t experienced. It’s a kiss she never thought she’d have: It’s soft, and vulnerable. Exploring but reserved. It’s tender, so much so that she feels herself start to free fall. That kind of weightlessness that comes with those kisses she only ever imagined were real, but resigned to herself that she would never have. She was lost in it. She was lost in him. When he pulled away, she very nearly whined in protest. 

She heard him grin without having to open her eyes to see it. It was accompanied with a smug little ‘humph,’ and she knew if she opened her eyes she wouldn’t be able to resist such a look. To imagine Joshua smug, and confident with the fact that he could catch her so off guard with that kiss, was nearly too much for her. Her blood started to rise up her neck, and she felt it pool in her cheeks, only to have his lips against hers again. 

This time it was a little more demanding. His hands were rougher now, pawing at her sides and trying to work up the courage to lift her blouse up and off. He wasn’t sure if she wanted that, or maybe if he wanted it, and the hesitation was palpable in the air. Sam, bless her, grew impatient with the matter all together, and pushed Josh back slightly with a flat hand against his chest. She sat up just enough to rip the blouse up and off her body, tossing it somewhere in the living room. 

They were in a stalemate for a moment, breathing heavy and staring at one another. His eyes were deep and wide pools of blue-green, drinking in her form as if he were admiring a portrait or painting. The slope of her neck, the curve of her collarbones, the sweep of her shoulders and the toned muscle beneath that porcelain white skin. He was frozen, pinned down by her and Sam never felt so empowered before. She could say, without a shadow of a doubt, that no one had ever looked at her the way Josh was now. With that kind of love-struck awe that came with seeing something so breathtakingly perfect, she only thought was movie fiction. 

Before she could even register what she was doing, instinct and habit brought her hand to her side, covering up the black inked phrase on her rib cage. Sam suddenly felt like she were doused in ice cold water. She froze, eyes wide as she looked at him like a deer caught in a wolf’s gaze. She was vulnerable, and so was her soul mark. If he so much as bothered to glance at her hands, he would see it, and he would know the truth: she’d never told him.

Joshua, however, is an astute man. He had watched as her hand rose up out of habit, and set itself against her skin. He watched the myriad of emotions filter over her features and then slowly reached out to set one of his hands over hers. “You don’t have to show me,” He whispered, voice soft and sincere. “I understand.” 

He couldn’t have understood the electricity that shot up her spine at the sensation of his hand over hers, the mark on her skin vibrating at being so close to being touched by him. He couldn’t have understood exactly what this moment was building up too, what this little interaction meant. The rational part of Sam’s brain told her to show him, that they’d come this far and she’d already broken up with Mike, so what was there to lose? 

“Promise you won’t be angry?” She whispered, voice tight and eyes averted. 

Josh raised an eyebrow, “When you have to preface it with that, there’s a good chance I’ll be angry.” He was half joking, she could hear it in his voice. 

“I never knew how to tell you--” Sam cut herself off and chewed on her lip. 

“Tell me what?” He prompted. 

Sam sucked in a deep breath and finally looked up to meet Josh’s worried gaze. She reached up with her free hand and set it softly on his cheek, thumb running over the deep bags beneath his eye. She then slowly removed her other hand, and let it rest stiffly by her side. She followed Josh’s gaze as it lowered to her rib cage and then his breath hitched in his throat. 

In stilted writing she had come to realize was Josh’s, engraved on the side of the rib where a well placed knife could pierce her heart, were the first words he ever spoke to her. “Holy shit,” He breathed, as if coming to realize just exactly what he’d gotten himself into. “Holy shit,” he said a little louder, his hands gripping her wrists as a large smile came over his face. “Holy shit!” He cheered, ecstatic, eyes wide as he pushed her back onto the couch so she could fully inspect the writing. “That’s my handwriting!” He was absolutely in shock. 

She watched him with a smile plastered to her lips. He was like a child who had opened the gift they’d desperately wanted on Christmas. “Yeah...yeah it is.” She agreed after a few seconds, just watching as various emotions filtered over his face. First happiness, then shock, and slowly, ever so slowly, it dissolved into something she couldn’t place. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was timid, as if he wasn’t physically ready for the answer. 

Sam chewed on her lip, there was no reason to lie to him now. She’d been caught, like a child with her hand in the cookie jar, and the only thing that could possible save her was honesty. “Because I thought I was happy with Mike.” 

“Is that why you didn’t tell me?” He looked up at her, eyes searching. 

She furrowed her brows, “Well...yeah. Mike and I had been happily living a lie for about a year and a half...we figured if we loved each other enough, the soul marks didn’t matter.” 

“You love Mike, don’t you?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I do Josh, but…” She didn’t really know how to explain it, or even what to say. Was there anything to say? They had been walking this delicate tightrope for months, her and Josh. Where they yearned to be near each other, but something always kept pulling them apart. “I think…” She tried again, but the words weren’t coming. She was having a hard time thinking of what to say, or how to say it. How does one even express the feelings that come with finding your soul mate while dating another person? How does one find the words to express the relief, the worry, the joy? 

Josh seemed to get impatient. He reached forward, his hands cupping her cheeks as he pulled her in close for another kiss. It was soft, like the one from earlier, vulnerable and gentle. “You don’t have to say it.” He whispered when they parted, “I get it.” He pulled himself from her, untangling their limbs so he could reluctantly stand. 

“Josh, wait,” Sam grasped one of his hands in both of hers, giving him a gentle tug to keep him from getting too far. “It isn’t that.” 

“Of course it is, Sam. C’mon,” He said, voice shaking. There was a breath of a pause, “I’m a fucking mess, Sam. A mess.” He looked around for his shirt, but found it too far away to get with Sam holding onto him. “You don’t want me as your soul mate, trust me, you don’t.” 

He was making wild assumptions, and she knew it. She squeezed his hand again. “Well, that makes two of us, Josh, because I’m not exactly sunshine and butterflies either.”  
He laughed at her hollow attempt at a joke, “You’re perfect Sammy.” 

She gave his hand another soft tug, “I’m really not, but I appreciate it. Come on,” She let go with one hand to gently pat the seat before her. “Stay? Please?” 

He gave in, his legs too tired to keep him upright, but the second he sat, he seemed to get a better idea. He instead turned over, and moved to hover above Sam, his arms on either side of her neck as he looked down at her. “You honestly are perfect, Sammy, you know that right?”

She gave him a small smile, and shook her head. “You haven’t seen all of my demons, Josh.” 

“You know I take medication, you know I fight demons.” He retorted, a mirth to his voice like he were teasing her because her ‘demons’ weren’t nearly as bad as his. 

“Do you have recurring nightmares?” She asked, finding just as much amusement as he was. 

“Constantly! Along with fugue states.” 

“Oh fugue states? Call me when you’re pretty sure you’re going into cardiac arrest because your brain is telling your body that you’re literally about to die.”

“What about the voices, Sammy? I have three.” 

“Three? That is impressive. What about insomnia?” 

He sits back and gestures to himself like it were obvious, “You make that call, Sam.” 

She laughed softly, eyes closing as her hand came up to cover her mouth. When she opened them, she found Josh looking down at her, a look of pure adoration overcoming his features. She only then registered that she was still topless beneath him. She blushed so hard she was sure her entire face was red. 

While she half expected a witty jab at her reaction, she was surprised when he simply leaned down to kiss her again. It was another one of those soft kisses that resonate with your very bones. The kinds that romantic movies frame just right. The one’s that authors spend page upon page describing because it was simply that awe inspiring. 

“Stay here tonight?” She asked softly when he pulled away, her hands roaming up his back so she could set one on the nap of his neck, right over that delicate mark he tried so hard to hide.

“Yeah, let me just get some of my things.” He whispered back, his lips peppering her cheeks. 

For the first time, in what felt like eternity, neither of them were really worried about falling asleep tonight.


End file.
